

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


©{tHn7-Z^5 ©mmrinW 

siielf.....£.5.i I S 3 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, 























I 


THE JAYHAWKERS, 


A TALE OF 

THE BORDER WAR. 


KANSAS IN TTTH EARLY DAYS. 




./A A 

BY T, B, FERGUSON. 


Guthkik, Oklahoma, 

State (.’apital Printing ( ompanv. 
1892. 










9 :> 




COPYRIGHTED 

BY 

THE AUTHOR. 


"©edication. 


To all those who fought in freedom’s van- 
guard during the dark days of “Bleeding Kansas” 
and to loyal friends who have aided the Jay- 
hawker state on her “journey to the stars” this 
volume is respectfully dedicated by 

The Author. 


Qce. 


The author submits this volume to the 
public for an honest verdict. 

No promises are made and no apologies 
are offered. (The “p'-iblic,” however, may de- 
mand the latter.) 

If this hook should “take,” the author will 
not be surprised; if it should not “take,” he will 
be neither surprised or disappointed. 

The narrative is associated principally with 
the events of the Border War in Kansas. It 
extends, however, to a later period of time. 

The charge that the narration of the events 
was biased by sectional prejudice will perhaps 
be made. 

The purpose was to deal with conditions as 
they existed at that time. 


Author 


©llGipter 1. 

“Pears to be mighty sulky lookin’ over toward 
the Mariasdescygnes this morniri’. 

“Shouldn’t wonder if them Ruffians isarasin 
the Old Nick or somethin’ else over that way. 
Seems that they are bound to keep up this killin’ 
and stealin’_ till they git the full swing of things 
unless we git in some mighty tellin’ work. 

“There were some mighty dost tuslin’ in 
that scrimmage last night. 

“I’ve heerd of fitin’ afore now, but that set 
to last night just capped anything that I ever 
seen or heerd tell of. The way our fellers fit 
beat all out doors. 

“If it hadn’t been for Cap. Brown and his boys 
a cornin’ up just at the right time we would all 
no doubt, have been afore this time sleepin that 
sleep that knows ' no wakin’ an little carin 
whether Kansas comes in free or slave. 

“There was poor Billy. Ames — he run away 
from home two years ago. I was stand in’ dost 
by him when be was hit. Poor feller, he fit like 
a man, but luck was agin him. I promised his 
old mammy that I would hunt him up and coax 
him to go home, but she will wait his cornin’ in 
vain. 

“I had not seen him since he left home until 


2 


I run across him in Cap. Brown’s camp last 
evenin. 

“It’s a mighty sad thing to find an old 
friend so far away from home and then see him 
shot down right before your eyes and not be 
able to save him. But I suppose that’s the way 
war goes, and as Ant Lizabeth used to say, 
what’s the use o’ cryin’ over spilt milk ? 

“We’ve got this war on our hands and wc 
must carry it on till there aint a blasted Ruffian 
left on this side of the Missouri line.” 

“Yes, Joe, that’s just what we must do. 
While we deplore the sad work of this cruel war, 
we must not hesitate to do our duty. 

“It appears to be the only way that this 
complex subject can be dealt with. The Pro- 
Slavery party forced the war upon us, and we 
must comply with their measures, or, ‘in other 
words, we must imitate their mode of settling a 
state — by force of arms. 

“How much better it would be if there 
could be a peaceable adjustment of this difficul- 
ty, but to entertain such a thought would be hop- 
ing against hope. 

“This war already assumes all the features 
of a sanguinary conflict, and what may be the 
result remains for future events to develop. But 
we must join our comrades and move toward 


3 


Liberty, or we will be too late to participate in 
the Free-State meeting which convenes there 
to-morrow.” 

The preceding conversation took place in 
the year i8— on the edge of the beautiful valley 
which follows the course of the Wawawaha as 
its murmuring waters glide swiftly onward to 
the ‘'Marsh-of-the-Swan.” 

The first speaker was Joseph Hiram Skid- 
more, from Bitter Creek, Indiana. The second 
was Albert Kingsley, a recent arrival from the 
state of the verdant mountains. The events to 
which they had directed their conversation 
formed some of the scenes in that bloody trag- 
edy known in history as the “Border War.” 

In that peculiar conflict, the opposing forces 
represented two sectional sentiments, which had 
gradually developed into mutual distrust and 
animosity. 

The storm which had been gathering for 
years had burst upon Kansas with all the fury 
and violence that sectional jealousy and long 
nursed hatred could engender. 

For years, the country had been struggling 
to avert this storm portended by the dark clouds 
which hung ominously over it. 

The question of human slavery had moved the 
nation as no other people had ever been moved 


4 

/ 

by a political measure. By the fireside, on the 
rostrum, in the pulpit, through the press, and on 
the floors of the American Congress, this proved 
the all prevailing yet ever perplexing theme. 

It, like the vulture that gnawed upon the 
vitals of Prometheus, was eating at the heart of 
the nation. 

The more it was acfitated, the greater the 
perplexity became. 

Compromises and abstract agreements could 
no longer ward off the blow which was inevi- 
table . 

The question of the day was not in refer- 
ence to slavery as it then existed, but it was 
“ where and how it should be extended.” Very 
few at that time even dreamed of assailing the 
monster in its den. Only the despised Abo- 
litionist raised his voice against the wrongs in- 
flicted upon an ignorant, helpless race, and de- 
clared that human slavery was wrong and should 
be indiscriminately abolished. 

There were but few men in those palmy 
days who had the boldness to publicly protest 
against an institution, the right of which had 
been recognized by the interpreters of the Con- 
stitution in all epochs of the nation’s history. 

As the supreme law of a free, independent, 
and liberty-loving people, the Constitution had 


5 


ever been made the bulwark of slavery by its 
expounders. 

Again the institution had been sanctioned 
and fostered by national legislation until by its 
supporters its citadel was deemed invulnerable 
The Boanerges of the sweet sunny south claimed 
that slavery, originated in the mind of the 
Eternal — that to question its validity was blas- 
phemy against the Most High--that to deny the 
“Land of the Mock Bird,” the right to extend 
its pet institution into any latitude was an in- 
fringement upon human liberty. 

Although apparently willing to allow it to 
remain unmolested in its own domains, the 
northern statesman fought stubbornly when his 
southern brethren sought to invade northern soil 
with slavery. 

There were at the beginning of this crusade a 
few obscure journalists and unknown preachers 
whose ideas of right and wrong led them 'to 
stem the unhealthy current of public sentiment 
and boldly declare that human slavery was a 
crime against humanity and that it should and 
would be finally blotted out of our common- 
wealth. 

In the south the Abolitionist was regarded 
as an agent of His Satanic Majesty, “ Old Nick.” 
• Yes, the Abolitionist was regarded by the 


6 


children of “chivalry” as a being whose charac- 
ter was blacker than the skins of the unfortunate 
creatures whom he was trying to free. 

Many people throughout the north threw 
the mantle of charity over the misguided Abo- 
litionist by proclaiming to the world that he was 
not in reality so desperate as he appeared, but 
was only a poor deluded fanatic into whose 
darkened mind the light of reason had failed to 
shine. 

Thus he was hated in the south and pitied 
and despised alternately in the North. 

But notwithstanding all this, the Abolition- 
ist was the primary power in the mighty conflict 
which was destined to shake the country to its 
very foundation and ultimately make it free in 
reality as well as in name. 

The north, while it despised what it deemed 
the fanaticism of the Abolitionist, had stub- 
bornly resisted every effort of the south to ex- 
tend slavery over northern territory, but when 
the Kansas-Nebraska bill became a law, it was 
a self-evident fact that the last barrier to the ex- 
tension of slavery was thrown down. 

According to the provisions of that bill, the 
territory of Kansas should be slave or free as 
the “sovereigns” might decide. What states- 
men had failed to settle in the halls of legisla- 


7 


tion was to be settled, ostensibly by the ballot, 
but in reality by force of arms, amid all the hor- 
rors of a lawless, malicious war.. 

“Coming events cast their shadows before.’ 

The philosophic saw in the portended con- 
flict the life or death of all their hopes relative 
to a wronged race. 

In ghastly array the skeleton had appeared 
in an entirely new form, but still more hideous 
than ever. 

What the wisdom and learning of a boasted 
civilization had failed to accomplish was to 
be wrought out by the sword, the musket, the 
fagot, the pistol and the slip noose. 

From all sections of the country people 
came pouring into Kansas — the minions of the 
slave power determined to plant within the 
limits of the new commonwealth a branch of 
their peculiar institution — the advocates of free- 
dom who invoked the Eternal to witness their 
words that the fetters of slavery should never be 
clasped upon this beautiful land. 

There were adventurers and travelers, men 
of various avocations, who were attracted to 
this land of romance and novelty. 

There were honest settlers who had come 
to build up a home where the stars, streams and 
broad prairies proclaimed freedom and liberty 
to all. 


8 


From the north, hundreds rushed to rescue 
“ Bleeding Kansas,” while from the south the 
tide of immigration increased to a regular flood. 
From Iowa, Illinois, Ohio, Indiana, and from all 
the New England states, came lawyers, doctors, 
ministers, farmers, and many who represented 
no particular position in life; all intent on taking 
part in that fearful game of life and death then 
going on. 

From Missouri, came hordes of desperadoes 
who were determined to rule the territory ac- 
cording to their own peculiar ideas of govern- 
ment. It really seemed that the federal govern- 
ment had despaired of solving this complex 
problem and had set apart the territory of Kan- 
sas as an experiment in local government. 

The threatened storm was not long coming 
when once the party lines were drawn. 

The question was not who could out vote 
but it was who could out shoot. The Missouri- 
ans who swarmed int^he territory, were repre- 
presentatives of that sentiment which maintained 
that there was more political resource in the 
trusty shot gun on election days than in a score 
of legal voters. 

Thus men who had no residence in the 
territory were leading spirits in the bloody 
tragedy. The work of destruction and death 


9 


soon spread all over the northeastern portion of 
Kansas, and in a very short time after the first 
election troubles, the beautiful prairies were 
changed from a garden of loveliness and hope 
to a field of crime and death. 

Upon the rolling prairie, beside the mur- 
muring streams, and beneath the glittering stars 
of heaven were committed some of the darkest, 
deepest, foulest crimes ever recorded in the 
annals of human history. 


©l^Qipter II, 

Joseph Skidmore, the first character intro- 
duced in this history, was a Hoosier abroad, who 
had left the parental roof on Bitter Creek, Indi- 
ana, and, as he expressed it, had come “ west 
to see the airth and make a stake.” 

Before leaving the land of his nativity he 
had paid his compliments to a certain Miss Sally 
Ann Dusenberry, and had secured from her a 
promise to wait until he should return laden 
with wealth from the romantic “west.” 

This Miss Sally was no ordinary personage 
in the estimation of our Hoosier friend. Just 
why she should have woven the magic meshes 
around him is a riddle which only the experi- 
enced can solve . 

But nothwithstanding the “ ifs ” and the 
“ands,” the “ whys ” and the “wherefores,” 
it was generally whispered in the social world 
on Bitter Creek that Joseph would at some 
convenient season return for the charming 
“ Sary,” and' take her to the far away “ west” to 
sew on his buttons, churn his butter, darn his 
socks, and be the joy and life of his home. 

While others might have thought her plain, 
Joseph believed Miss Sally to be in possession of 


all the graces that nature ever imparts to mor- 
tals. 

Was she somewhat chubby, he had not 
perceived it. 

Did her kindness exceed her wisdom ? By 
no means impossible, but Joseph thought she 
was wisdom incarnated. 

Much to the discomfiture of the Bitter Creek 
swains, he, as a fashionable belle upon the mat- 
rimonial market would say of a successful rival, 
had “ won.” 

Although “ Josef,” as his maternal ancestor 
fondly called him, belonged to a long line of 
illustrious Skidmores, his wealth in prospect was 
vastly greater than the one in store, consequent- 
ly after winning the heart of the object of his 
dreams, he commenced like a sensible young 
man to arrange for the future. He decided to 
go west. 

His father, Hiram Skidmore, sr., was not a 
little surprised when his dutiful son Joseph in- 
formed him of his intention in regard to the 
west. 

His mother was frantic with grief when her 
son “Josef” disclosed to her his future plans; 
and she commenced at once to use all the arts 
that maternal love could devise to dissuade him 
from what seemed to her a scheme concocted by 


2 


a disordered mind. 

But Joseph was as firm as the pillars of Her- 
cules, and turned a deaf ear to the pleadings of 
motherly love, declaring that he, Joseph Hiram- 
Skidmore, was the promised husband of Sary 
Ann Dusenberry, and to the distant prairies of 
sunny Kansas be would wend his way, solitary 
and alone, to seek his fortunes where the Italian 
zephyrs kissed the flowery plain ; where the 
silvery stars sang in sweet harmony with the 
murmuring streams of the dreamy west, where 
the amorous dove wooed his cooing mate in all 
the seasons of the year, where the seasons were 
all summer, and all nature was a perpetual gar- 
den of beauty and loveliness, where the festive 
coyote roamed unmolested over the land of the 
free, and the red man chased the wild buffalo 
over the plain, and the fleet antelope bound with 
a chain, and where abundant fortunes were in 
store for whosever would seek them. 

The indulgent reader will doubtless be kind 
enough to pardon our Hoosier, when we inform 
you that he had been reading the Emigrant’s 
Hand Book, and that this effusion was only a 
quotation from its pages, which he “fired” at his 
honest mother, who stood horror stricken before 
him, now fully convinced that his mind must be 
wandering. 


13 


Yes, go he would. Hoosierdom was no 
place for the future husband of Sally D. 

After shaking hands with his father, 
kissing his mother an affectionate farewell, and 
paying his parting compliments to the daughter 
of “ Widder Dusenberry,” he severed himself 
from the scenes of childhood and wended his 
way toward that famous land which lay away off 
in the direction of the setting sun. 


©I^apter 111. 

“My child, do not look so sad and forlorn. 
You will only make matters worse. The more you 
worry about it, the harder the trouble will be to 
bear. 

“Be a brave girl — there now don’t cry — what 
did you do or say to him that could bring about 
this unhappy result.? 

“Pshaw! Only a love quarrel. Lover’s 
quarrels invariably end in kisses. That is a 
very ancient adage, and I believe that universal 
experience has demonstrated the truthfulness of 
its claim. 

“Gone has he.? Rash, hasty boy. You 
acted unwisely in teasing him as you did, but 
Albert is too sensible to be driven away from 
home by the coquetry of a saucy little girl like 
my darling. 

“You should not have told him anything that 
you did not mean, for lovers generally believe 
every thing that is said in a quarrel, although 
said in haste and by no means meant. 

“Gone to stay! Nonsense, child, he will be 


15 


back in less than one week, and make amends 
for all these tears. 

It will be a profitable lesson for both of you 
which if well studied will save you from many 
mistakes in the future.” 

“ No, Papa, he has gone away never to re- 
turn, for he wrote in his letter that he would 
never see me again.” 

“And pretty Anna Kamman laid her head 
on her father’s arm and again burst into tears. 

The participants in the preceeding conversa- 
tion were Rev. Mr. Kamman and his daughter 
Anna. 

Mr. Kamman was a resident of Starkville 
Vermont, a beautiful village in a picturesque 
valley among the Green Mountains. 

He had spent the greater portion of his life 
in the verdant mountains, having first beheld the 
light of day at Starkville, and was in every re- 
spect a representative Yankee parson. 

According to the economy of the church to 
which he belonged, Mr. Kamman had filled vari- 
ous pulpits in different parts of the state. He 
had risen from the Sunday school class to the 
position of Presiding Elder, and had always en- 
deavored to discharge his professional duties in 
obedience to what he deemed the true import of 
the gospel. He believed that true religion was 


6 


designed to look after the social as well as spirit- 
ual welfare of mankind, and taught by precept 
and example that political sins should be re- 
proved in the pulpit whenever there was a cause 
for such reproof. 

Although he had always claimed Starkville 
for his home, Mr. Kamman had in compliance 
with the itinerant plan of his church, presided 
over many of its spiritual charges throughout 
the state, for be it, known unto all that he was a 
New England Methodist, and possessed all the 
political enthusiasm that actuated a large ma- 
jority in that spiritual fold, at that particular era 
of our national history. 

He believed and taught wherever he labored 
that Providence was discernible in all human 
history, leading on the cause of right to an ulti- 
mate triumph. 

He saw in every passing event the imprints 
of Divinity, and believed that He whose all 
seeing eye marks the fall of the sparrow, was 
visible in every experience associated with 
human life. 

In early life, Mr. Kamman had led Anna 
Wyman to the bridal altar in the old Asbury 
Chapel at Starkville and in that sacred temple 
had vowed to love and cherish her ’till death 
should separate them. 


7 


His life had been a happy one. 

Two years after the marriage, a little girl 
oame to add another ray of sunshine to the 
Kamman household. 

As the years passed along and Anna grad- 
ually merged from the dawn to the rosy charms 
of life’s early morning, it was with enraptured 
joy that, amid all the varied hues that childish 
artlessness throws upon the picture of life, Mr. 
Kamman beheld the growing image of her 
mother. 

The child was a living mirror of the mother. 
Then there was that mysterious affinity which 
so often exists between the mother and the 
child — easily discovered but never defined. 

Being the only child that had blessed the 
home of Mr. and Mrs. Kamman, it is needless 
to add that Anna was petted, .spoiled, and in 
innumerable ways made as complete a little 
tyrant as ever dictated terms to any household. 

When Anna had reached the age of fifteen, 
Mr. Kamman retired from active work in the 
ministry, located at Starkville, and set about 
preparing for the peaceful happiness of “ a life 
at home.” 

But alas ! how sadly uncertain are earthly 
hopes. How often are the most magnificent 
temples of Hope and Promise swept off from 


i8 


these mortal shores by the waves of adversity 
that ever and anon roll darkly over the sea of 
Life. 

Time has told many a mournful story of 
the sad wrecks that lie all along the shore. But 
arising from this wreck and ruin, we behold a 
silvery star. It ascends higher and higher, and 
throwing its glittering rays into the blackest 
shades of life, reaches the mid heavens where it 
will shine forever. 

Mr. Kamman’s dream of domestic felicity was 
a short one= His loving wife sickened and died, 
leaving a disconsolate husband and grief stricken 
daughter to mourn in deepest anguish for her 
whose pure spirit, becoming weary of this life, 
had taken its flight to the realms of the immor- 
tal. Mr. Kamman mourned for his dead wife 
with a sorrow that refused earthly comfort. 

She had been the idol at whose shrine he 
had paid his devotions. Pardon him if his love 
had transcended the lines drawn by some good 
people, and had been closely akin to adoration. 
She had been a part of his life, and had borne 
so patiently the embarrassments and trials of 
life, and had been so gentle and loving in her 
artless simplicity that it is no strange thing that 
she should be fully enshrined in the good man’s 
heart. In times of disappointment, when baffled 


19 


by adverse circumstances her sympathy and love 
were his support. 

Amid all the conflicts of a minister’s life she 
had been counsellor and friend ; her life, sympa- 
thy, ambition and heart were wholly his. No 
selfish motive on the part of either had over 
obscured the sunshine of their mutual love 
They had lived for each other, and when she 
was no more Mr. Kamman felt as if every 
wheel in the machinery of life had stopped still. 

Like a guardian angel she had watched over 
him, and by a pure and exalted life had ever 
cheered and pointed onward and upward to a 
higher and better state of existance. 

But notwithstanding his poignant grief, Mr. 
Kamman thought that in the midst of the dark- 
ness that had fallen so suddenly upon his life 
he saw the hand of the Eternal, and in the 
mournful tones of the bells that tolled the 
funeral requiem of his wife, he heard the voice 
of God. 

Starkville had never known a sadder day 
than the one on which the minister’s wife was 
laid in the grave, to sleep that long, dreamless 
sleep which knows no waking upon earth. 

The bereaved husband placed a wreath of 
immortelles upon the coffin in token of that far 
away realm, where the flowers that fade on the 


20 


shores of Time are transplanted to bloom in an 
eternal summer in the regions of Immortality. 

After the death of his wife, Mr. Kanlman, 
accompanied by his daughter, made a tour of 
the southern states and finally located tempor- 
arily at Traderstown, South Carolina, where he 
attempted to give instruction to the slaves of 
that vicinity, but finding public sentiment in the 
land of the “Mock Bird” too unhealthy for a 
person of “Northern birth” and ideas, he, after 
having been honored by Southern compliments 
embodied in tar and feathers, seasoned with 
diverse lashings, bade adieu to the land of 
chivalry and returned to Starkville, and forthwith 
commenced to preach Abolitionism to the peo- 
ple of New England. 

Mr. Kamman entered into the field with all 
the enthusiasm so strongly characteristic to 
his sect. 


©l^apter I\-?, 

Albert Kingsley had lived at Starkville 
nearly all of his life — all except three years 
spent at college in another state — and had been 
the playmate of Anna Kamman almost as far 
back as he could remember. 

Mr. Kamman and James Kingsley, Albert’s 
father, had been fast friends at college, and, 
after finishing the course, returned to Starkville, 
and ere long commenced the duties of the pro- 
fessions which they had chosen — ^Mr. Kamman 
the ministry, and his friend the law. 

Mr. Kingsley married, but after only two 
years of domestic happiness, his wife was torn 
from him by the relentless hand of death, leav- 
ing with him a helpless babe, for whose life she 
had given her own. 

From the blow given so unexpectedly, Mr. 
Kingsley never recovered. After a lingering 
fever, he called his old college friend to his bed- 
side and requested him to be a father to the 
child whom he must soon leave an orphan. 

Mr. Kamman promised his friend that the 
child should never want a friend and protection 
as long as Providence permitted them both to 
remain on Earth, and after the death of the 


22 


young lawyer, took Albert home with him, fully 
resolved to comply sacredly with the promise 
made to his departed friend. He kept his 
promise inviolate, and never did a father watch 
more faithfully over a favorite child than he 
watched over Albert Kingsley. 

Having given him the advantage of the 
village school, Mr. Kamman placed the young 
man in college, where he graduated with honor 
to himself, and all who had been interested in 
his welfare. 

Before going to the college Mr. Kingsley had 
secured from Anna a promise that was to be 
fulfilled when he should have become fully es- 
tablished in the profession which he had chosen. 

To gain that promise, had been an easy 
task, as Anna could not remember when she had 
not loved him, and her beau ideal had always 
borne a striking resemblance to Albert Kings- 
ley. 

Ever in her girlish fancy, she had invested 
him with all of the virtues and none of the vices 
of those heroes with whom she had become ac- 
quainted in poetry and romance. 

This silly girl had believed Albert Kingsley 
to be the incarnation of wisdom, truth, and all 
the virtues of mortals. 

We have a repetition of the old, old story, 


23 


a Cupid-s^mitten youth of twenty making love to 
a pretty, silly child who had seen but sixteen 
summers. 

They were engaged long before the parents 
of pretty Anna considered her any thing more 
than a mere child. 

After returning from college, Mr. Kingsley, 
by the consent of her father, renewed his at- 
tentions to Miss Kamman, and arrangements 
were being made for the marriage when a trifling 
circumstance changed the whole affair, and sent 
them adrift on a sea of uncertainty, without 
either chart or compass. 

But how often, very often, is the current of 
life completely changed at this point. One 
hasty act or word has often in life’s mysterious 
drama been known to blight and ruin the fondest 
hopes of those whose destiny had once seemed 
inseparably woven together. 

Having been petted and spoiled by fond 
parents, Anna was not a little disposed to have 
her way in almost everything that involved her 
wishes, or more properly speaking, her notions. 
Like many well meaning girls, she was a little 
disposed to coquetry, which she, on several oc- 
casions at social gatherings, just for amusement 
and hoping to nettle her prospective husband, 
had practiced on a certain young dude who had 


24 


for years been one of her most ardent admirers. 
Her lover protested, but the silly girl, seeing 
that she had made him madly jealous, and 
thinking it exquisite fun which could lead to 
nothing serious, kept up her little game, much 
to her affianced husband’s mortification and her 
own danger of losing what in her own heart 
she prized more highly than life. 

Of course she meant nothing — only pastime 
at the expense of the young man for whom she 
cared no more than she cared for the mysterious 
“man in the moon.” She did not realize w'hen 
she was flirting with the village coxcomb that 
she was doing just what will often change love 
into disrespect. 

Anna thought nothing about the evil and 
danger of her conduct. To her it was only a 
huge joke at the expense of both her admirers. 

Wrong ! Nonsense ! 

Did she not love Albert Kingsley with all 
the passion of a first and only love ? 

Did she not love him with that undying 
love that comes but once in life, and ever burns 
on the altar of the heart to the exclusion of all 
other love ? 

Would she not make one of the most loving, 
dutiful wives that ever blessed the life of any 
man .? 


25 


Would she not devote the whole of her 
married life to his interests and make amends 
for all her girlish folly ? 

She only wanted to vex her lover a little 
and give sway to that peculiarly feminine idea 
that charms are not for home consumption, but 
to be thrown upon the market without discrim- 
ination. 

Anna laughed at all her lover’s protests. 
But a quarrel was the final result, and that was 
soon followed by a broken engagement. 

At first Miss Kamman had only trifled with 
her lover for amusement, but as Albert became 
a little severe in his remonstrance, she deter- 
mined to oppose her pride to his resolution. 

The following letter which Miss Kamman 
received a few days after her engagement with 
Kingsley had been cancelled fully explains the 
Situation: 

Starkville, Vermont. 

Miss Anna Kamman: 

By the time you shall have come in posses- 
sion of this letter I shall be many miles away- 
I have been the unhappy victim of your charms- 
You are as false as you are fair. Such deception 
as you have practiced is unpardonable, but 
fortunately, I have discovered your real charac- 
ter. 

You sought to dupe me by your pretended 



26 


love, but it is plainly evident that you have all 
along been acting the part of a heartless flirt. 

Your conduct has completely changed my 
mind. My contempt for your recent conduct is 
as strong as my love for you was once passionate. 

Your letter informs me that unless you are 
to be mistress of your “own inclinations” our en- 
gagement is to be considered a thing of the 
past. 

I have not sought to intefere with your 
“inclinations,” except when they hazarded the 
honor and future self-respect of my afflanced 
wife. Think not that I shall ever attempt to 
renew the engagement which you have requested 
cancelled. 

I am going away to forget the past, and, 
perhaps, will never see you again. 

Very Respectfully Yours, 

Albert Kingsley. 

While reading the fatal letter which seemed 
to her a sentence of death, Anna felt a strange 
sensation creeping all over her; the blood rushed 
from her face and gathered around the heart. 

The truth of her lover’s unreasoning jeal- 
ousy dawned upon her. 

The product of her folly was now apparent. 
She had sown in folly and must reap in anguish. 
Gone! Gone! Could it be possible! The letter 
fell from her trembling hand, and, uttering a cry 
of anguish, Anna Kamman fell unconscious upon 


27 


the floor, and in that condition her father found 
her, when, she having been restored to con- 
sciousness, they are, by their conversation, in- 
troduced to the readers of this history. After 
her first pangs of grief had somewhat subsided, 
Anna began a retrospective review of the past. 
She, borne on. the golden wings of memory, 
went back to the happy scenes of childhood, 
when she and Albert had roamed among the 
woodlands and by the crystal brooks of the 
Green Mountains. 

Fond recollection carried her back to 
long forgotten scenes through which she had 
passed, never dreaming that in future life sad 
experience would paint them so vividly upon 
the landscape of her memory. 

She remembered the times when she and 
Albert had played in childish innocence around 
her father’s door, how he had told her that he 
would be a big man some day, would be a soldier^ 
ride on a big horse, and make all the people 
afraid of him. She remembered that he had 
told her that he would come home from the war 
and that she would be his little wife; they would 
live in a home of their own “way out west,” and 
he would punish everybody she did not like. 

She remembered how for hours she had 
listened to him while he told her marvelous 


28 


things about Generals Marion, Sumpter, Put 
nam, Scott, “ Mad Anthony,” and Jackson- - 
how they had “fit the Britishers and Injuns,” 
and how he expected to be a big general just 
like them. Anna remembered how she had 
listened to this childish prattling until she really 
believed her playmate to be a hero, and would 
not have been surprised any day to have seen 
him mounted on a praneing steed, riding away 
to take part in some of the wars about which he 
was constantly talking, and not unfrequently 
had she put her arms around his neck and told 
him that he must not forget to come back, and 
that he must not go where the “Britishers and 
Injuns” could see him for they might kill him 
and then she would cry and would not have any 
one to play with her. She remembered how he, 
with all the sternness of a veteran cavalier, had 
declared by the honor of his military heroes, 
that he would come back as soon as the war 
should have ended and make her his wife — an 
answer which always calmed her fears, and 
made the young warrior a greater hero than 
even his favorites, in her estimation. 

How vividly the scenes of childhood are re- 
produced on the panorama of the mind when 
their associations are such as that upon which 
memory loves to dwell! 


29 


When once the mind is called back to ex- 
plore the realms of the past, how strangely 
quaint are the pictures that rapidly appear on 
the landscape! 

In after years, when sitting in her room at 
twilight, looking over the landscape of the past, 
she would ask herself “whence, whither,” was it 
the shadow which “coming events are said to 
cast before?” 

As Anna looked over the past, it seemed to 
her that life had commenced with her recollec- 
tion of Albert Kingsley, and ended on the day 
that she received the fatal letter announcing his 
determination to leave her forever, for since that 
day she had seemed to live in an altogether new 
world — one in which there was no sunshine, no 
love, no music and no hope — one whose sun, 
moon and stars were draped in the the sable 
clouds of despair. 

Again, Anna remembered how she had felt, 
a few years later, whenever her mind was occu- 
pied with thoughts of Albert Kingsley — how she 
had felt a strong sensation in the vicinity. of the 
heart, — a peculiar feeling that she could not de- 
fine — how she had been uneasy, restless, and yet 
strangely happy — how Albert had changed in 
her estimation, and how she had at times avoided 
him and at the same time had felt happy only in 


3 


30 


his presence — how she could not look him in the 
face, but would blushingly drop her eyes when- 
ever his eyes sought hers. 

She called to memory how she had run away 
from Albert when he attempted to kiss her, 
just as he had done, without resistance on her 
part, innumerable times before. 

Again, she called to memory how she had 
gone to her room and cried bitteriy because Al- 
bert had carried the books of one of the ’village 
girls, as they were walking home from school 
fully convinced for the time that the damsel had 
supplanted her in the affections of the young 
man, and it is useless to add that she hated her 
supposed rival with all the bitterness that a 
jealous girl could summon. 

She recollected that on that very evening 
Albert had told her that she was mistaken when 
she thought that he cared for the other girl be- 
cause he did not like her and had only carried 
her books for manners sake, and not because he 
cared for her, and in fact did not like her very 
well. 

Then she had changed her mind concerning 
the other girl, pitied her and when they met on 
the following morning, she had kissed her and 
told her that she was just the dearest girl in 
town and that she loved her even if Albert did 


31 


not like her very well. 

There also, were his letters which she had 
received while he was away at college. She read 
them all over with tearful eyes while every ten- 
der word written, and every gentle sentiment 
expressed pierced her heart like a two-edged 
blade. In her estimation, those letters were the 
finest specimens of composition in the English 
language. 

In early childhood, Albert had been her hero, 
but when week after week, she received his 
letters, so abundant in adjectives and rhetorical 
.flourish, teeming with poetry and passionate ex- 
pression, he made a new impression upon her, 
and became indeed her true knight — the most 
gallant of the race. 

She remembered how she had watched 
with pride Albert’s splendid career at college 
He had been the successful competitor in many 
of the literary contests, and it was with joy that 
Anna received the intelligence. 

But when she read in the College Journal 
that Mr. Albert Kingsley had won the “first 
honors of the graduating class, and would de- 
liver the “Greek Oration” on “Commencement 
day,” she was in an ecstasy of joy; and when she 
sat in the college chapel, listening to his eloquent 
oration, she was so overcome with emotion and 


32 


pride that she laid her head on her father’s arm 
and shed tears of joy. 

When the bouquets were showered upon the 
young orator at the close of his address, and she 
beheld him hastily pick up a single rose that she 
had thrown toward him, selecting it from a sea 
of flowers, she thought it the proudest, happiest 
day of all her life. 

His success \vas to be her fortune. All the 
victories that he might win were to be her tri- 
umphs, for she would share his toils and exult 
in his success. 

All these things passed through the mind 
of Anna Kamman, as she compared the past 
with all its happy memories with the bitter, 
bitter reflections of the present. 

Then came to her the sad thought that 
was too late to make atonement for the past; she 
could not complain as she had heaped the burden 
upon herself. 

She never for an instant upbraided the rash- 
ness of her lover but blamed herself for all. 

Every word that Albert’s parting letter had 
contained added to her poignant grief. She bade 
adieu to happiness. 

There was however, one ray of hope hidden 
deep in her heart. It came from her undying 
ove for Albert, for in the temple of her heart, 


33 


he would remain enshrined forever. 

Yes, she would always be true to him, and 
he might — she knew not when or how— some 
day learn or know that she was not false. 

Happy in this life she never could be, but 
they would — yes, they surely would meet in a 
better land, where the sorrows and heartaches 
of this vale of mortality are unknown. 

Had she owned tlic stars she would have 
given them to have seen Albert Kingsley once 
more and told him that she was not false. 

Then rapidly through her mind passed the 
bright picture of domestic life that she had 
drawn in the happy days gone by. 

Often had they talked of their future hoing 
— a cottage where love and joy should be the 
only law — where the birds would sing in the 
trees, ,and flowers bloom in the garden — an 
empire where Anna was to have reigned Queen 
of Love. The cup of happiness had been 
raised to her lips and she had by her own indis- 
cretion dashed it from her, and in its place must 
drink the bitter cup of disappointment to its 
very dregs. 


©l^apter \7. 

We must now leave our young lady friend 
to her own reflections, and follow the fortunes 
of Albert Kingsley through the short period of 
time subsequent to his sudden exit from Stark- 
ville. 

His state of mind at that time challenges 
description. That he passionately loved Anna 
Kamman, he never questioned, but — well, it was 
all over — he was going away to — a — he knew 
not why, where, nor did he care. He was simply 
going to leave Starkville. 

Mr. Kingsley was no philosopher, and only 
looked at that side of life which is first presented 
to the vision. He had not yet learned that many 
of the appearances of life are only shadowy 
phantoms, and have no existence outside of a 
quickened imagination. He knew he had quar- 
reled with his lady love and that their plighted 
vows were broken, but never for a moment re- 
flected on the possibility of their being a mis- 
understanding which an explanation on the part 
of either might easily rectify. 

Things were viewed as stern realities, and 
Kingsley resolved to seek consolation amid new 


scenes. 


35 


After arranging his affairs temporarily, and 
writing the letter which has already been pre- 
sented to the readeis of this history, Albert 
Kingsley boarded a train and was borne rapidly 
westward, without even having determined his 
destination. 

While being hurled rapidly along toward the 
setting sun, our traveler took a backward look 
over the past. 

In all the voyage of past life, Anna Kam- 
man had been the guiding star. But, alas ! the 
star had passed behind a cloud, and his ill-fated 
vessel must drift onward amid a sea of darkness. 

Yes, he loved her. No difference hov\- fate 
might deal with him, he wmuld love her just as 
long as the lamp of life continued to burn. Init 
seek a reconciliation he never wmuld. 

On, on the train moved, westward. 

Mr. Kingsley remembered that an old col- 
lege friend of his resided then at Chicago, and 
thither he concluded to wend his way, deter- 
mined to test upon n heart sick waanderer the 
associations of the city on the lake. 

Having found his friend, our wanderer spent 
a few days walking carelessly around, inspecting 
the wonders of this Tyre of the west, when an 
event transpired which was the means of open- 
ing before him that field of adventure arid activ- 


36 


ity for which he for several weeks had so ardent- 
ly longed. 

At the time of the young wanderer’s arrival 
all Chicago was in a whirlpool of excitement over 
a series of public addresses which were nightly 
delivered in one of the city halls upon “ Bleeding 
Kansas ! ” 

The speaker was Col. , fresh from the 

bloody scenes, of the border war in Kansas. 
He had come from the land of crime and death 
to plead before his countrymen the cause of the 
suffering free state settlers of that unfortunate 
territory. 

An attempt to describe the picture which 
was presented to our young friend on the occa- 
sion named would simply end in failure. 

In fact it seemed to him that the one ab- 
sorbing theme of Chicago was : 

“ Kansas ! Bleeding Kansas ! ” 

Among the most enthusiastic in the audi- 
ence might have been found many of the most 
prominent citizens of the city. 

The speaker was one of nature’s own orators 
whose heart was fired with a consciousness that 
he pleaded a just cause. 

Never had man a better opportunity for 
passionate appeal to the sympathy of his hearers, 
and there have been few instances in the history 


37 


of oratory in which the opportunity was better 
improved. 

The subject, the audience, and ability of 
the speakers made the occasion one never to be 
forgotten. 

The scene was painted so vividly that the 
audience seemed to have been carried away to 
the prairies of Kansas, and present at the tragedy 
of death then in progress. 

The midnight assassination, the cold blooded 
murder, the burning dwelling, the fierce hand to 
hand encounter, the wailing wife bending over 
the prostrate form of a murdered husband, the 
desolate homes, the midnight raids of lawless 
desperadoes, and the destitute condition of many 
families in the territory were portrayed so vividly 
that the 'vhole scene flashed across the vision 
with the rapidity of a vast panorama. 

The speaker seemed to have mesmerised 
his audience, for he swayed them at his will. 

During the first part of the address, the 
wildest enthusiasm had prevailed, but as the 
speaker progressed with his theme the confusion 
gradually subsided, and soon that awful death- 
like silence so often witnessed where the speaker 
is master of the situation, pervaded the entire 
audience. 

The thrilling sentences fell upon that 


38 


vast audience like fire from the altar of the 
Eternal. The attention of every one present 
was so closely rivited on the speaker that not 
even a whisper disturbed the harmony of the 
occasion. 

Men arose to their feet all over the room, 
and stood with clinched hands and angry, de- 
termined faces, while they listened to the recital 
of the wrongs inflicted upon the unfortunate 
victims of a lawless, vindictive war. 

The following is an extract from the ad- 
dress, and helps to illustrate the nature of an 
anti-slavery aid meeting much better than it 
could be described : 

“Never before in all the varied history of 
the human race has there been an instance, in a 
civilized nation, in which murder, theft, and 
robbery have without restraint been inflicted 
upon the helpless citizens of a country without 
an effort by the ‘ powers that be ’ to suppress it. 

“ I challenge the pages of history to produce 
any thing which will in violence, crime, murder, 
blood, misery, woe and death compare with the 
tragedy now going on in Kansas, where rene- 
gades, murderers, thieves and outlaws perpetrate 
their dark, hellish deeds in defiance of a weak, 
timid national administration, which seems dis- 
posed to encourage rather than suppress the 
fiendish work. 

“ Never before in the history of our race has 


39 


the voice of justice, liberty, right, freedom and 
humanity appealed more strongly for sympathy 
and aid than the imploring voice which comes 
from the bloody fields of helpless Kansas, ap- 
peals to you for protection against the wrongs 
inflicted upon brave men, helpless women, and 
innocent children. 

“Never before has the world witnessed just 
such a spectacle as the one presented to its gaze 
upon the prairies of Kansas — a lawless band of 
renegades plundering, robbing and murdering, 
and a civilized nation looking on as complacently 
as if peace and harmony were reigning over all 
the world. 

“ My countrymen ! AmericansJ Freemen! 
Lovers of liberty ! Citizens of Chicago 1 I ask 
you shall the wrongs inflicted upon your coun- 
trymen in Kansas go unavenged ? 

“The government has placed the affair in 
the hands of the people, and in behalf of the 
oppressed I ask you to strike for freedom ! Strike 
for liberty ! Strike for right ! Strike for justice ! 
Strike for humanity ! Strike for your country 
and your race ! 

“Friends and members of the common 
brotherhood of humanity, in the name of the 
gi'eat Eternal, in the name of love and justice, 
law and order, patriotism and truth, and in be- 
half of the people of Kansas, I appeal to you, 
one and all, to enlist in this noble crusade, and 
make the soil of that land as free as the stars 
that glisten in its limpid streams.” 

The orator closed his address and took a 


40 


seat. For a few moments an unbroken stillness 
reigned throughout the entire assembly ; but 
suddenly the magic spell was broken, as simul- 
taneously the vast audience arose and broke forth 
in one long, enthusiastic thunder of applause 
which reverberated through the wide halls of 
the building until the very arches trembled. 

On that occasion three hundred persons 
went to the front and enlisted in the Army of 
the North, and one of the number was our wan- 
dering Vermonter. 

In that enthusiastic company enrolled were 
prominent business men, laborers, middle aged 
men, old men, boys with smooth faces — all 
seized with that peculiar contagion, so often 
manifested in assemblies of this character. 

The organization of a company was soon 
effected, and in a fortnight after Mr. Kingsley 
had joined his fortunes with the “Free State” 
crusaders, a large body of men, armed and fully 
equipped for the conflict, started for the scene 
or the “War in Kansas.” 


©l^Gipter \71. 

Reader, we will now leave the wanderer 
from the Green Mountains, and trace the wan- 
derings of the gentleman from Bitter Creek. 

Mounted on a mule with the necessary para- 
phernalia for “camping out,” elated over the 
prospects of becoming a “squatter sovereign,” 
with the “Hand Book” as guide, our friend 
wended his way westward determined to “squat’’ 
“where the poetic waters of the historic Wa- 
karusa are lost in the rolling waves of the ro- 
mantic Kaw.” 

Nothing worthy of record happened to Mr. 
Skidmore on his journey to the “Land of Ro- 
mance,” as he read in the “Emigrant’s Hand 
Book.” He had by this time memorized a large 
portion of the Hand Book. 

Soon after his arrival in Kansas, ourHoosier 
friend selected his empire, over which he might 
exercise the authority vested in a “squatter 
sovereign. ” 

Athletic, hardy and accustomed to work, 
the young man from Bitter Creek was no mean 
specimen of life on the claim. 

Fie had come to Kansas to make a home for 


42 


the peerless Sally Ann, and when he found 
himself the inmate of a ten by twelve log cabin, 
with clapboard roof, mud chimney, earthen floor, 
and a hole where a door should be, his enthusi- 
asm knew no bounds. 

In his mind, Joseph beheld bright pictures 
of the future. 

The broad fields that he should cultivate, 
the abundant harvests which he would garner, 
the live stock which would form a portion of 
of his wealth, and the farm cottage all formed a 
pleasing picture in the mind of this young sov- 
ereign whose imaginary empire was of a strictly 
domestic character. 

The sovereign must have a consort. Vis- 
ions of Sary of Bitter Creek flitted across our 
sovereign’s mind as he already in pleasing an- 
ticipation beheld her mistress of his home, as 
she was already queen of his heart. 

The Hoosier was no novice in the “science 
of the heart,” but loved the rosy Sally with a 
sentimental love that might have done honor to 
the renowned knight of La Mancha. 

The magic cup of matrimony is always 
sweetest to those who have never tasted. 

In that stage of life, “things are not what 
they seem.” 

All things are painted in roseate colors. 


43 


Youthful hope always lends wings to the 
imagination, and never fails to extend the 
flight far beyond the realms of reality. 

How beclouded and misty is the human 
vision in the. early morning of life, when the 
subtle web of love is weaving itself around the 
unsophisticated heart. 

Assuredly, that mischievous deity who pre- 
sides over the department of heart-philosophy, 
is by far the most meddlesome, deceptive, and 
troublesome personage whose history is recorded 
in the annals of the gods. 

Why does he practice his arts on the inno- 
cent, and bring trouble to hearts which have 
never been restless before.^ 

Why does he infuse into hearts that have 
never known pain, his dangerous poison, causing 
grief instead of joy, and sorrow instead of 
peace.? 

These are questions which the sages of all 
the ages of human history have failed to an- 
swer. 

It has been generally decided by those 
versed in this kind of lore that this mischief 
making deity first appeared on earth many, 
many years ago, to a coyish young damsel by 
the name of Eve, on the banks of the historic 
Euphrates, and it has also been claimed by the 


44 


learned that the first instance in human history 
wherein a maiden was known to blush was 
when this little wretch sought her out in her re- 
tirement and pierced her breast with a dart from 
his fatal quiver. 

It has also been affirmed that since that 
time the daughters of Earth have been in con- 
stant trouble. 'No sooner had this sly elf ap- 
peared to Miss Eve, than she became plainly 
conscious that heV garments of palm leaf were 
not a la mode, whereupon she commenced to de- 
vise new and divers 'fashions and patterns in 
palm-leaf, and from that day to this, the entire 
female creation has been in a whirlpool of ex- 
citement and worry over fashion?, cuts, patterns, 
etc., but the wise tell us that it is all because 
of an irresistible desire to look pleasing to the 
eyes of the lords of creation. 

The votaries of this science o^ the heart 
tell us that since this blind deity appeared to 
this blushing damsel under the apple blossoms 
in the beautiful Eden, he has been hiding in 
shady dells, behind hedges, beside rippling 
streams and in flowery gardens, where he, es- 
pecially on moon-light nights in spring-time, 
steals upon youths and maidens who 
may chance to be rambling about, and with a 
shaft from his fatal quiver, inflicts a deadly 


45 


wound which can never be cured. The his- 
tory of this trouble-some personage, prior to his 
coming to Earth, of course, is not recorded in 
the annals of man, but there is a rumor afloat 
that he is an exile from some celestial clime in 
which he had practiced his wily arts among the 
gods, causing jealousy, malice, war, and misery 
to such an alarming extent among the immor- 
tals that he was by common consent, seized, 
blindfolded, and hurled from the land of the gods 
down to Earth, where he has with unbounded 
delight practiced his arts upon helpless mortals, 
in every clime, and in every epoch of human 
history. 

The wise tell us that the rumor is fully au- 
thenticated by signs and circumstantial eviden- 
ces which can not be contradicted; they also in- 
form us that Virtue followed the wanderings of 
Cupid when he came to Earth, and it is said that 
she follows the footsteps of this artful wanderer, 
and takes under her special guardianship all those 
who have been made the victims of his pleasure, 
consequently it has been argued by the in- 
formed that the Earth has lost nothing by the 
advent of these celestial visitants. 

Be those things as they may, our Hoosier 
loved the fair Sally as sentimentally as the 
knight of the Sorrowful Figure loved his Dul- 

4 


46 


cinea of Toboso, and like that renowned gallant 
he had by the aid of a lively imagination created 
an ideal of virtue, goodness, truth, beauty, and 
love, and had invested the object of his affec- 
tion with it all. 

His life on the claim was to him a magic 
spell of romance, as “Sary” was present in all 
his efforts and plannings for the future. 

It was not in the shady grove, nor in the 
pale, shimmering moonlight, behind the honey- 
suckles, that our Hoosier met his fate, but it was 
at one of the old fashioned “corn-shuckens” on 
Bitter Creek, Indiana, while seated beside the 
blooming Sally, in a large log barn under the 
glare of the tallow candle, that the blind deity 
stole quietly up behind him and inflicted a fatal 
wound which time had not healed. 

There was nothing to mar the beauty of his 
day dream during the first six months of his life 
on the claim. 

He had provided himself with farming im- 
plements, having purchased a complete outfit in 
Missouri, and his new claim soon began to as- 
sume the appearance of a real home, when on 
an evil day, an event transpired which was des- 
tined to change the entire course of his plans, at 
least for the present, and introduce him to the 
varied experiences of an entirely different life. 


47 


One night while reposing upon his bed 
ruminating on the past, and at intervals dream- 
ing of Sally and the future, he was aroused by 
someone calling to him from outside the cabin. 

“Heerd the news, stranger.?” 

“No,” replied the inmate of the cabin, 
“nothin’ bad, I hope .? ” 

“Well, I should kinder think it might be a 
little bad. 

“Fact is, I never heered anything wuss in 
all my born days. 

“Just about the thoughest thing that ever 
took place in these diggins. Haint heerd it, 
eh .? And here you are' a sleepin’ in your shanty 
not knowin’ what minit you might wake up an 
find your throat cut from ear to ear ! 

“Why, just this blessed day the cut-throats 
sacked the little town of Lawrence over on the 
Kaw, and if I aint on the wrong trail, there’s 
goin’ to be some more devilment afore a bullet 
pouch can hang on the moon agin. 

*‘The Ruffuns has spotted you and intend 
to make you look up a limb, and being kinder 
friendly toward sich as you, I thought as I’d 
jes drap in and tell you that it is time to git.” 

“How do you know they intend to string 
me .? Who on airth are you .? Where are you 
from.?” said the Hoosier squatter sovereign^ 


48 


who by this time began to suspect that the em- 
pire over which he reigned was liable to an in- 
vasion from an unknown foe. 

“I’m Mr. Somebody from Pike County, Mis- 
souri, and have been knockin’ around this kentry 
long enough to get the hang of the ropes, or, to 
make myself plain, I know which way the wind 
blows. 

“I’ve been about among the fellers from 
across the river, and have larnt their plans. 

“They call ’emselves the Law and Order 
Party, but they are the wust set of thieves and 
cut-throats as ever went unhung. The folks at 
Lawrence was Free State men, and more nor 
onct the captain of the Calhoun Rangers has 
said that the damned Abolitionist nest at Law- 
rence should be broke up or they would git too 
strong. 

“They have commenced their work and 
what has took place to-day is nothing to what 
will foller if the Free-State men don’t give in. 
I’ve heerd of all this afore, but did not think as 
the work would begin at this pint. Yes, stran- 
ger, they has spotted you, and the very next 
time they meet in this locality, you will swing 
unless you git, and as there’s no knowin’ when 
they may be here to see you, take a fool’s ad- 
vice and cut for tall timber.” 


49 


“Why, what on airth have they got agin 
me ! ” exclaimed the Hoosier sovereign. “I 
never harmed em. Don’t even know who it is 
that has threatened to swing me. Seems kinder 
strange that a feller should have an enemy and 
not even know who it is.*” 

“Well, one thing that they have got agin 
you is that you are accused of bein’ in that 
crowd that went over to Calhoun sometime ago 
and stole old Sol Higgins’ niggers and gave ’em 
money to skedaddle to Canada.” 

They also claim that you are here to fight 
for the Abolitionists.” 

“Why, the great gee whilliky ! ” said the 
sovereign, “I never heard of Sol Higgins’ niggers 
before to-night, and as for fitin’, I never had but 
one regular knock down fight in all my life — 
that was when I licked Hi Wasson at Uncle Jack 
Skidmore’s dance the night the fellers from 
Hardscrable came down to bust up the fan- 
dango. Can’t understand ’em; I haint come to 
Kansas to fight; came here to git a home, and 
now these fellers is around waitin’ to pitch into 
me, and to save my life, what for I can’t tell.” 

“Makes no difference whether you’ve done 
anything or not, you are spotted by ’em and the 
sooner you pull up stakes and hull out of here, 
the safer your neck will be.” 


50 


“Now there is a company of Free-State 
men a mustering over on purgatory Creek, and 
if you will go with me, I will show you the way 
to their camp, and believe me, friend, if you jine 
you will find them as true as steel.” 

“Well, pardner, you tell a pretty likely tale, 
and I guess you are not far from the right track. 
I’m not in this country to fight, but if these Ruf- 
funs want to make war on Joseph Hiram Skid 
more, late arrival from Bitter Creek, Indanny, 
this Joseph Hiram Skidmore, of Bitter Creek, 
Indanny, can fight as well as maul rails or call 
hogs.” 

Our sovereign saw his castles vanish in 

air. 

He awoke from a day dream. 

His fondest hopes had taken wings and 
flown away. 

Sally Ann would never be mistress of the 
little cottage on the bank of the Wakarusa. 

He collected a few articles of clothing, care- 
fully placed in an old carpet bag a bundle of 
letters bearing the post-mark “Bitter Creek,” 
mounted his mule, and with his visitor rode 
away toward the south. 

On leaving his claim on the Wakarusa, our 
friend Joseph was for a time occupied with many 
sad reflections. He had come to Kansas to se- 


cure a home, but now fate had conspired to dis 
appoint him. 

After riding to a distance of several miles 
from the seat of the Hoosier’s empire, the travel- 
ers alighted from their beasts and, having spread 
their blankets upon the ground, laid down and 
slept until daylight. 

Early on the following morning they re- 
sumed their journey, and, leaving the valley of 
the Wakarusa, pursued their way across the 
prairie. Having traveled a short distance across 
the plain, with its gentle undulations and its sea 
of waving grass, the wanderers entered a basin- 
like valley or depression around which the land 
rose in swells of equal proportions on every 
side. 

The sun was fast clearing the eastern hor- 
izon, and was pouring a flood of golden light 
upon the surrounding prairie. 

Both of the travelers stopped suddenly, and 
in unbounded astonishment began to gaze at an 
object that presented itself above the swells of 
ground directly toward the rising sun. There, 
in the air, entirely apart from the ground, they 
beheld a group of objects which, after a close in- 
spection, proved to be a body of horsemen. 

There they were as surely as the human 
vision ever beheld an object. Horses and riders 
beyond the shadow of a doubt ! 


52 


“In the name of High Heaven, what does 
this mean !” exclaimed the Hoosier sovereign as 
he sat upon his mule, regarding them with a be- 
wildered look on his face, and eyes that seemed 
ready to escape from their natural positions. 

“What kind of a place is this Kansas.? To 
hear of burnin’ towns and the devilment of the 
murderin’ Ruffuns was sorry enough, but when 
It comes to men and bosses a prancin’ around in 
the air, it just knocks the hind sites off of any 
thing that I ever heerd of.” 

In the tide of light that shone around them 
these strange figures assumed gigantic propor- 
tions, and as they arose high above the earth, 
the phenomenon became a scene of magnificent 
grandeur. 

An attempt to describe the sensations that 
this “unknowable mystery” aroused in the mind 
of the gentleman from Bitter Creek would be 
a trial on the patience of the reader and a use- 
less waste of ink. 

Indeed, it out-romanced the romance of his 
favorite “Hand Book.” 

In that, his highly prized volume, he had 
read many glowing descriptions of the “wonders 
of the west,” but of this marvelous “wonder” 
he had never read. 

After regarding the strange phenomenon 


53 


for a few moments, Mr. Skidmore’s companion 
replied to the exclamations of the sovereign: 
“I’ve seen them kind o’ sights many a time on 
this prairie, and am not shook up by seein’ that 
shadder on the hill, but just who they are is 
what’s a puzzlin’ me most. Somewhere furnenst 
that rise yander, there is an outfit of men and 
bosses. They may be just over the hill, or they 
may be several miles away.” 

“You don’t mean to say them aint men and 
bosses do you.? My name aint Joe Skidmore if 
they aint there as plain as the sun in the sky.” 

“Well,” said the stranger, laughing, “we will 
ride up the slope and see if we can find anything 
there.” 

Accordinsfly, they started up the ascent in 
the direction of the spectral horsemen. The ap- 
paration began to fade slowly away. 

As they neared the summit of the hill, the 
forms appeared to be mere shadows floating in 
the air, and ’ere the travelers had gained the 
crest, they had vanished. Not a living object 
was to be seen. 

“What will happen next.?” said Mr. Skid- 
more turning to his companion with a manifest 
anxiety which he made no effort to conceal. 

“A man has enemies and never knows who 
they are, and then comes these — what on earth 


54 


they are I don’t know — a flourishin’ around in 
the air, and then disappearin’ without even havin’ 
enough bringin’ up to say how do you do to a 
body.” 

Just then a body of horsemen appeared in 
the distance and came riding leisurely toward 
the hill upon which the Hoosier and his com- 
rade had halted. 

“There they come,” said the stranger, in- 
tently regarding the approaching horsemen. 

“They are four miles away at least.” 

“Confound me, if I don’t believe that this is 
all a dream and I’m in my shanty on the Wak- 
arusa, instead of out here on the prairie, where- 
heaven and earth both seem to be a cuttin’ ca- 
pers to cap any tarnal circus a body ever* saw. 

‘Tf them men and bosses are so far off and 
we did not actually see ’em on this rise, are you 
fil-o-soffer enough to tell me the cause of this 
strange fernominy.^” 

“No, I’m a Missourian, and not a fil-o-sof- 
fer, and don’t know a fernominy from Adam’s 
off ox, but I once heerd a smart Yankee say 
that these sights are caused by the uneven 
compensation of the air, and the — what do you 
call it? — Oh, yes distraction of light.” 

“Don’t know how that is but I do know that 
these sights are seen on this prairie so often that 


55 


they are a gittento be a common thing.” 

“Well,” said the sovereign, “I don’t under- 
stand it, and want to say right at this pint that 
I’m not a toward, but there’s sumthin’ bout this 
business that makes a feller feel kind ’o skit- 
tish.” 

“I did not come to Kansas to fight, but am 
not the one as would back water when the inimy 
goes at it in a decent way, but when it comes 
to ridin’ at a body through the air, you may 
count me out. 

“I’m willin’ to fight in regular style on foot 
or on mule, but I am not a goin’ to fight an inimy 
that keeps a prancin’ around in the air, over my 
head.” 

“Don’t think you will have to fight. Them 
horsmen over there are probably Free State 
men, out scoutin’ after the Ruffuns.” 

“We will wait till they come up, so we can 
find out how the moon hangs.” 

The strangers slowly approached. “Too 
late,” said the sovereign’s comrade. “For the 
life of you, don’t say anything that will let them 
know who you are. 

“If they ask, say that you are a Pro-Slav- 
ery man. Tell ’em nothin’ bout where you live. 
Let me do the talkin’.” 

By this time the unknown horsemen , were 


56 


near enough to enable the sovereign to scruti- 
nize them closely. 

They wore long hair, unshaved beards, and 
were armed with pistols, knives and shot guns. 

“Hello, Stibbins,” ejaculated one of the 
party, who was riding in advance of the others. 

“What the devil are you doing down here.?” 

“The Abolitionist scouts are thicker in 
these parts than fiddlers in hell, and if you don’t 
keep your peepers peeled, you may turn your 
toes to the sunflowers.” 

“You just orter saw us tother night — spose 
your friend is solid” — a nod from Stibbins — 
“Yes, as I was sayin’, you jist ort to seen us 
over to that Abolitionist nest on the Kaw. 

“Cuss me if I didn’t feel sort o’ skittish, 
when the women and brats were a screamin’ 
around as if the very devil hisself had broke 
loose. 

“You see that Abolitionist Black as lived 
over there was one of the cusses as went over to 
Calhoun and coaxed Sol. Higgin’s niggers to run 
for Canada, at least we heerd that he was and 
that amounts to ’bout the same thing. 

“We filled his blasted carcass full of buck 
shot, and after we had paid [our respects to 
him, we gave his wench* and brats just one day 
to git out. 


57 


“Some of us was a wantin’ critters powerful 
bad, so we jist took Black’s bosses, seein’ as he 
was not likely to need ’em soon. 

“To-morry night, we’re a goin’ over to the 
Wakarusa. Have heerd of a feller from Indanny 
who has squat on a claim that one of our boys 
wants, and as the Hoosier is an Abolitionist, 
were goin to string him.” 

“Wont find him at home,” said the Hoosier 
— to himself, however. 

The Missourian, for such were the strangers, 
continued : 

“ Sol and the Carliner chaps are down on 
Purgatory Creek a lookin fer ole man Brown, 
but blast my picter if I think they want to catch 
him ! The devil is in that old man, and if he 
finds that our men are in here huntin him there 
will be some powder burnt. 

“ Well, I spose you are on some business for 
the Lodge, and haint got no time ter answer or 
ax questions, so health to you and your pard.” 

The son of Missouri concluded his speech 
by presenting a flask of bad whisky from which 
all present drank to the honor of the Blue 
Lodges, and to the success of slavery in Kansas. 

The Missourian, after offering this fraternal 
compliment, moved on, and with his men was 
soon hidden behind an adjacent hill. 


58 


After the disappearance of the Missourians, 
Stibbins and the late sovereign rode slowly 
toward the south. Suddenly Mr. Skidmore 
stopped. 

“What is the matter.?” said Stibbins. “We 
must ride on, and that pretty smart too.” 

“ Confound me if I go another step with 
you.” 

“ What’s up, pard ? What do you mean .? ” 

“I mean that I’ve been a blasted fool to toi- 
ler you out here to get caught in this trap. First 
I’ve been bearin’ of the Ruffuns' a burnin’ towns, 
then I’ve come out here to see either men or 
devil, ridin’ in the air, and at last find out that 
I’ve been a gaddin’ around after a Ruffun all 
night and mornin’. Lookee here, Mr. Stibbins, 
or Stubbins, or whatever your name is, you got 
me to leave my claim to foller you out here, but 
listen just one moment to my musical racket. 
You can pull the wool over my face and lead me 
into this nest of Ruffuns, but let me inform you 
that I’m done with you, and if you are spilen 
for a fite. I’m your huckleberry. You can fool 
me, but I am not to be skeered by all the Mis- 
sourians on this side of thunder. Right here 
we part, and if your life is worth a bit to you 
dont fool around me any more ! ” 

“You think,” said Stibbins, “that I am 


59 


leading you off to give you up to the Ruffuns ? ” 
“Well, it does look somewhat suspicious, but 
pon my honor you’re mistaken. Now, if I had 
wanted to turn you over, when would I have 
had a better time than when them fellers was 
here a while ago.” 

“You heard what that feller said ’bout goin 
to swing you to-morrow night. Now, if I ment 
you any harm, why didn’t I leave you for them 
to swing, for they will go to the Wakarusa just 
as sure as to-morrow night comes.” 

“There is sense as well as truth in what you 
say, and I won’t go back on you any more,” said 
the sovereign, extending his hand, “ but it is a 
sum that I can’t figger out, although I’ve been 
over to the ‘Rule of Three,’ in the arithmetic. 
Here you come to me and tell me to pull up 
stakes, or the ruffuns would swing me, and then 
we met with the very ruffuns, and you go to 
talkin with ’em as if you was the biggest duck 
in the puddle. Can’t understand it. You seem 
to be a friend and then you seem to be on the 
other side. Well, I ’spose its someway jined in 
with that business of men and bosses a bein’ seen 
in the air, not gitatable.” 

“There is,” replied the other, “ but one 
man in Kansas who knows more about me than 
you have accidently discovered to-day. I be" 


6o 


lieve that you are a man who can be trusted. I 
ask you to never mention to a livin soul what 
has taken place to-day. I am a Free State man, 
yet ther’s but one man in Kansas, except your- 
self, as knows it. When we reach Free State 
Camp on Purgatory Creek, do not for the love 
of heaven call me Stibbins. I must go by some 
other name among the Free State men. Call 
me Smith. Jerry Stibbins is my name, but you 
will find when we reach the Free State camp 
that it would not be popular to go sailin round 
under the name of Jerry Stibbins, Esq , High 
Sheriff of Douglas Lodge. I am Sheriff in one 
of the Blue Lodges which is organized in Mis- 
souri for the purpose of votin’ in Kansas. The 
object of the lodge is to carry slavery into the 
territory, but here our members claim to be what 
is known as the Law and Order Party. The 
plan for the burnin’ of Lawrence was got up in 
the lodge that I belong to, and the citizens of 
that place were warned, but they were too skeery 
to do anything. 

“The lodges in Missouri have been preparin’ 
for some time to send agents all over the terri- 
tory and drive off or hang every Abolitionist that 
can be found. I am out now with full authority 
from Douglas Lodge to carry out the order of 
my lodge, and have the pledge of the United 


6i 


Blue Lodges that I shall be cleared in and by 
the laws of Missouri for anything that might 
happen in Kansas. 

“Now, friend, as you heard that feller. Bill 
Posy was his name, call me by the name that 
was the first one I ever owned, and I have had a 
good many, don’t tell any one. If you should 
ever happen to fall into the hands of the Missou- 
rians, and should be asked about bein’ with me, 
don’t tell where I took you. No difference what 
or who you think I am, if I deal square with you 
— should you not do the same by me ? ” 

After securing the sovereign’s promise to 
irrevocable secrecy, the High Sheriff led the way 
and the two moved briskly onward. 

During the journey, after the departure of 
Posy and his followers, our sovereign and his 
comrade met several groups of horsemen riding 
in the direction taken by the first company. 

Their appearance was strikingly similar to 
the first group — long hair, sallow complexion, 
and a swaggering air of “don’t care a continen- 
tal ” being a common characteristic. They were 
representative Missourians, fresh from the river 
towns of that state, and were flocking to Calhoun 
to take part in the war. 

The sovereign perceived that many ot these 
j^tragglers recognized Stibbins, and was not a lit- 


62 


tie perplexed in the peculiar position in which he 
found himself. He did not then know what he 
afterwards learned, that all western Missouri was 
organized in secret societies whose object was 
the subjugation of Kansas to the slave power of 
the south, and that the men whom they had met 
were the agents of the Blue Lodges starting out 
to execute the decrees of their order. 

“You,” said Stibbins, “are a wonderin’ why 
so many of them fellers recognize me, and how 
I come to know so many of them. They are 
members of the lodges over furnenst the river, 
and we have ^igns and — what you call ’em — 
badges, yes, them’s the thing — by which we 
know each other wherever we meet. I have 
met members of the Blue Lodges in nearly all 
the towns in the territory. 

“Why, cuss me, if I didn’t go to church in 
Leavenworth tother Sunday, and when the 
preacher got up to begin the music, he made 
every secret sign of the lodge. 

“Bill Posy, the one that we met first, is 
sheriff of the lodge at Calhoun, and is one of the 
most darin’ cusses as ever swallered bad whiskey. 
He has already killed more Abolitionists than 
he is likely to git forgiveness for, and yit he 
seems to glory in the business. 

“Posy’s uncle, Sol Higgins, of Calhoun, is 


63 


the leadin’ Pro-Slavery man in Kansas. 

“Each of the lodges has an agent — or, as we 
call ’em — sheriff, whose duty it is to lead a squad 
of men around over the Territory, do all the 
mischief they can to the Abolitionists and report 
to the lodge every full moon.” 

The travelers now left the prairie and entered 
a narrow broken valley, through which ran a 
small, rippling stream. 

Having followed fora short distance down the 
stream, they entered a forest at the base of one 
of the hills, and came suddenly upon “a camp 
in the woods.” 


<Sl]apter \7II , 

It was evident to the sovereign that many 
of those who were in this camp were only late 
arrivals, for the surroundings indicated recent 
occupation. 

Horses were tied to trees promiscu- 
ously around the camp. Saddles, guns, and 
camping utensils were strewn around in a man- 
ner that indicated that this was not a regular 
rendezvou, but only a temporary camp. 

There were in all about sixty men with their 
guns and equipments. Some were cooking at 
the different camp fires, and others were assem- 
bled in groups talking about the recent events 
which had called them together. 

A majority of the men were citizens of the 
Territory who had not been taking part in the 
former disturbance, but had been called together 
by certain developments that followed the burn- 
ing of Lawrence. 

They were a band of resolute, determined men 
whose rights had been violated, whose liberties 
had been assailed, and whose lives had been 
endangered by non-residents from another state. 
They had sought to avoid the conflict, but mu- 
tual safety demanded immediate action. 


65 


After the sovereign had been in the camp 
about one hour, a signal, three low bugle notes, 
was given and the occupants assembled immedi- 
ately in the center of the camp. 

Presently a man arose and walked slowly to 
the place where the crowd had collected. 

He was a tall, spare old man whose face wore 
a melancholy expression. A glance at his face 
was enough to satisfy any one that the stranger 
was not unacquainted with sorrow. 

His eyes were deeply set, and although no 
man could look straight at them for an instant, 
there was in them a strange fascination, and an 
expression by no means unkind. 

In them there seemed to be a strange ming- 
ling of sternness, boldness, and gentleness. 

In the face which at first appeared hard and 
unrelenting, those versed in the mysteries of 
human nature might have unerringly traced the 
delineations of a noble, generous, philanthropic 
soul. 

There was also in that countenance the image 
of a character whose force is never bent or turn- 
ed from a conception of right or duty. 

The keen grey eyes, the prominent brows, 
the firmly compressed lips, and self-possession in- 
dicated a spirit as bold and daring as any that 
ever characterized a human being. 


66 


It was John Brown of Ossawatomie. 

A pen portrait of this remarkably strange 
character had been recently given in the “West- 
ern Sovereign,” in which he was described as a 
hideous monster who washed his hands in the 
blood of his victims, and whose constant venge- 
ance against his enemies was the absorbing 
thought and motive of his life. 

But such was not the impression that Brown 
produced upon the mind of our sovereign. 

There was about this mysterious undefinable 
character an individuality, — a personal force 
and power which can easily be felt, but not 
understood. 

The inmates of the camp gathered around the 
spot chosen for their forest rostrum, and list- 
ened to the following address: 

“Americans, freemen, and citizens of Kan- 
sas: — You are, perhaps, all aware of the fact that 
necessity demanded this assembling of the Free 
State men of the territory. We have met to-day 
in the name of Almighty God, in the name of jus- 
tice, in the name of Liberty, and in the name of 
the oppressed settlers of Kansas to devise plans 
for the protection of our property, the preserva- 
tion of our liberties, and the punishment of our 
enemies. The hour which shall try the souls of 
men has already come, and nothing remains for 


6 ; 


us but war, and the sooner it comes the better- 
The minions of slavery have shown their inten- 
tions regarding the settlement of this territory, 
and by their hellish deeds during the past six 
months have shown what they can and will do. 

“They have, without mercy, murdered Free 
State settlers in different parts of the territory, 
and when an appeal, for redress^ was made to 
the Governor, his only reply was ‘War by 
G— d.* 

“We will take him at his word. In the name 

I 

of the Eternal, we re-echo the cry. We are 
ready as well as prepared for war in any form. 

“We will teach them that we can be as mer- 
ciless and unrelenting as they. We will teach 
them that they erected the gallows upon which 
they must perish. We will teach that weak 
vassal of a corrupt administration that we read- 
ily and cheerfully accept his taunting declara- 
tion of war and fling back difiance at his corrupt 
administration. We will proclaim to the civil- 
ized world that we are not to be intimidated by 
robbers and cut-throats from Missouri. Only 
yesterday the demons sacked the town of Law- 
rence without the slightest provocatian. Three 
weeks ago this day an honest man, a Free-State 
settler, was shot down like a miserable dog, 
while working in his own door yard, surrounded 


68 


by his innocent little children, and all because 
he was a Free-State man, and had voted against 
the pro-slavery cause at that superb mockery 
called the territorial election. 

“Only a few months ago a friend of mine, a 
peaceful, quiet man, was shot while holding the 
handles of his plow. He had given offense to 
no one, but had come from a Free-State and 
was opposed to that blighting curse, human 
slavery. Who did this fiendish work.^ 

“Citizens of the territory , who had engaged 
in private brawls with these unfortunate vic- 
tims. 

“No! The perpetrators of these hellish 
deeds are non-residents of the territory — Mis- 
sourians, outlaws, renegades, minions of that man 

, who is called governor of Kansas, 

executing the will of the national government 
upon the unfortunate settlers of the territory. 
Do they mean war ? they shall have it, and in 
their own way. . Do they mean murder ? there 
are others as fearless and desperate as they. Do 
they mean blood ? by the Eternal power above, 
it shall run in floods 'til it washes this deathly 
stain from the soil of Kansas, and drenches the 
nation with crimson from the hills of New Eng- 
land to the plains of Georgia. 

• “Human slavery must soon be buried in the 


69 


grave of the dark, ghostly past, for its race is 
well nigh run, and fall it must, if it costs rivers 
of the bluest blood in this slave-cursed land. We 
deplore the sad fate of the hundreds who will 
be the victims of this bloody affair, but the em- 
ergency demands that we go to war. There is 
no other remedy. War has been forced upon 
us, and we must either cringe like cowardly curs, 
or fight like men. The policy of the slave pow- 
er is intimidation through the cut-throats from 
Missouri. They have forgotten that they have 
to deal with free men, who would willingly sacri- 
fice their lives rather than their liberties. The 
hour has now arrived when freemen are called 
upon to strike for liberty and right. The war 
must be carried on just as the Missourians have 
commenced it. We will ask no quarter, neither 
will we grant it. If they have adopted intimi- 
dations as their policy, by High Heaven it shall 
be ours. We will follow the example they have 
set before us. Yes, we will imitate them in 
every mode of warfare that they suggest. For 
every drop of honest blood that they have 
Spilled, they shall give a gallon in return. The 
conflict has been forced upon us and we must 
enlist ourselves in the work regardless of conse- 
quences, but trust all to that Eternal power 
who will eventually make all things right. 


70 


“There must be no slavish fears among us. 
Let every man feel that he is engaged in a 
work which must and will receive the benedic- 
tion of Almighty God. 

“We would like for every man in this assem- 
bly who is willing to die rather than submit to 
the outrages of the slave power to rise to his 
feet.” 

In response to the request, every man in the 
assembly arose to his feet. They knew that 
they were to contend against an enemy whose 
cruelty was unbounded, but impending danger 
had forced them into the field, and they had 
come determined and prepared to meet any 
emergency. 

They were actuated by two motives : mutual 
protection, and retribution for wrongs already 
inflicted by their unrelenting foe. 

The occupants of the camp were resuming 
their preparations for war when the attention of 
all present was attracted by the sudden appear- 
ance of two horsemen who came riding briskly 
nto camp. They were a part of the reconnoit- 
ering party which the captain of the Rifles had 
the day previous sent out to watch the move- 
ments of a band of Calhoun Rangers, who were 
reported to be in that locality “hunting for Old 
Brown. ” 


71 


The scouts reported that they had followed 
on the trail of the Rangers all day, and that 
they had come upon their camp at the Doylan 
place, not more that two miles down the stream. 

In less time than would be required to state 
particulars, horses were saddled, mounted, and 
the cavalcade was ready to move. Just as the 
rays of the sinking sun were painting crimson 
streaks on the western horizon, the Rifles moved 
out of camp. They separated, one party taking 
the north, and the other the south side of the 
stream upon which the Rangers were reported 
in camp. 

Before either company had left therendevous 
in the forest, Mr. “Smith,” the two scouts who 
had reported the enemy, and the sovereign had 
followed the timber that fringed the border of 
the stream, and undiscovered had reached a 
cliimp of trees on a slight elevation which over- 
looked the Missiourian’s camp. There were, as 
nearly as could be ascertained, about one hund- 
red and fifty men, armed and fully equipped for 
war. 

The fantastic hues of twilight were fast de- 
parting from the western skies, and night was* 
throwing her somber mantle over the surround- 
ing hills, and aided by a glimmering light from 
the large red moon just peering over the eastern 


72 


horizon, was metamorphosing dull inanimate 
objects into gigantic forms of life. 

One of the camp fires was so near the hiding 
place of the soverign and his companions that 
the conversation could be easily understood by 
those in hiding. Two men were sitting by the 
fire cooking, and talking about the “War.” 
“Oh,” said one of them, “we’re a goin’ to get 
Old Brown this time. The Captain has been 
afeered all the time that Brown would skip out, 
but Jerry Stibbins, the very best scout on the 
border, has been a keepin’ on the racket of the 
Abolitionists and is perhaps now in their camp 
in disguise. They can’t make a move without 
Cap. Higgins a finden it out, with such a trusty 
man as Jerry watchin’ em.” 

The emotion of the soverign can be more 
easily imagined than described. 

In the very suburbs of the enemy’s camp, at 
the mercy of one of their, as he had just learned, 
most trusty spies! 

Returned toward “Mr. Smith,” but he had 
vanished. 

Just at that moment the party in the bush as 
Veil as the inmates of the camp was suddenly star 
tied by several shots which were fired in quick 
succession in the direction of the ford, near the 
place where the Rifles had recently camped,' 


73 


They had scarcely recovered from the surprise 
caused by this sudden clamor when ten or fif- 
teen horsemen came dashing into the camp, 
passing so near the spies on the hill that they 
discerned that they were two empty saddles, 
and the Soverign recognized the party as the 
one that had appeared so unceremoniously in the 
air that very morning — the party led by Bill 
Posy. 

The horsemen dashed into camp, and had 
barely passed the “lookout” in the bushes, when 
in swift pursuit came another band about equal 
in number to the former. 

The camp was instantly thrown into confu- 
sion. Some of the men rushed for their horses, 
others for their arms, some hollowing, others 
cursing, some were rushing wildly about the 
camp, and others had commenced to fire upon 
foe or friend, they knew not which. 

The soverign and his comrades knew that the 
strangers who passed them last were not friends 
to the Missourians, and, mounting their beasts, 
resolved to join them. They had barely time 
to mount when the strangers, pressed by over- 
whelming odds, were driven to the very spot 
where the spies had been hiding. 

The melee was now raging furiously. 

The quick, sharp report of the pistol, the swish 


74 


of the saber the clang of the sword, and the 
shouts of the contestants told of the reality o 
this furious encounter. 

Ere the tumult reached the Hoosier 'and his 
companion, it was almost impossible for those 
engaged to distinguish friend from foe. 

However the strangers had monaaged to keep 
together, and, aided by the confusion that 
their sudden appearance had caused, and the 
inability of the Missourians to strke their foes 
without hazarding their friends, were proving 
proving themselves a foe not not to be despised 

The firing had now ceased. The melee by 
this time had assumed all the rush, noise and 
confusion of a border hand to hand fight. 

The sovereign found himself in a peculiar 
position among his newly chosen friends. He, 
although by no means a coward, had never en- 
countered danger before, and that the situation 
should, to one of his peaceable disposition, be 
just a little exciting — possibly embarassing — is 
by no means impossible. 

Another vision crossed the horizon of his 
mind. Bitter fate! — Sally of Bitter Creek--Oh, 
chubby angel! He may never behold you 
again. 

These reflections were only momentary. A 
gigantic Missourian rushed upon him withdrawn 


75 


saber as if determined to rent him in twain. 

The gentleman from Bitter Creek knew 
nothing about that accomplishment so highly 
important to the gentleman of the “Border” in 
those palmy days. 

He could use the ax, hoe, scythe, and cradle 
to perfection, but until recently the saber was an 
instrument wholly unknown to his domestic ar- 
senal. 

A hasty glance at his foe revealed to the 
gentleman from Bitter Creek the atheletic form 
of Bill Posy, who, having reached his friends, was 
as usual, in the van of the fray. 

Mr. Posy was no novice in a “rough and 
tumble fight,” but fell upon the sovereign with a 
force that caused that gentleman to exemplify 
the precept that “self preservation is the first law 
of life.” 

The Missourian swung his weapon with a 
dexterity that indicated a well practiced hand 
while the awkward Hoosier dealt his blows right 
and left in violation of every rule of this, at that 
period, all important western refinement. 

Posy crowded his opponent back through 
the turbulent throng until they found themselves 
outside of the intermingled mass of combatants, 
and as there was no one to interfere, they had 
room to fight to their hearts content. 


76 


As if by mutual consent, the combatants in 
the vicinity of the Hoosier and his atagonist sus- 
pended hostilities to watch this encounter, per- 
haps influenced by a natural curiosity to know 
how it would end. 

Wholly unaccustomed to such pastime, the 
sovereign was sore pressed, and with great diffi- 
culty managed to parry the well aimed blows of 
his vigorous antagonist. 

It was by a commendable management of 
his mule, which on this occasion displayed all 
the historic stubborness of its kind, that he man- 
aged to keep, at least most of the time, a good 
distance from his wary foe. 

The sovereign evidently belonged to the 
Fabian school of military heroes, as he seemad 
disposed to avoid a “pitch battle,” and to keep 
his enemy as far away as possible. 

He thought of his good old mother and her 
prayers for him to remain at home. 

Then— Sally, his own Sally. 

But the thoughts were only for a moment. 
The Missourian renewed the attack and dealt the 
Hoosier a blow which might have sent him to 
that goal from which travelers come not back, 
but for the first time in the conflict the sover- 
eign made a scientific parry, and so changed 
the course of the stroke and retarded its force 


77 


that it did no injury, save the cutting away 
of a portion of his hat rim and entering his left 
sleeve, making an ugly wound on his arm. 

This was the first time that the steel of the 
enemy had touched the person of the Hoosier 
cavalier. 

Throwing his sabre away as if disgusted 
with such a weapon, he tore loose a long heavy 
rifle which was swung to his saddle, and grasping 
the barrel near the muzzle raised in his stirrups 
and discharged a ponderous blow upon the 
shoulder of the Missourian, which caused him 
to reel and fall to the earth bleeding profusely. 

But the moment of peril had now come. 
The Missourians seeing their champion rolling 
on the ground, pressed in upon the victor, and 
just as he was bidding a last farewell to the 
daughter of “ Widder Dusenberry,” he heard a 
voice near him exclaiming: “Done like a real 
cavalier, friend, hit them again. ” 

On looking around, the Hoosier beheld 
several of the strangers whose appearance had 
brought on the fray, and it was their leader by 
whom he was addressed. 

The sovereign had scarcely acknowledged 
his gratitude for the timely rescue, when the 
Missourians renewed their attack. The strangers 
were driven back toward the northern hills- 


6 


78 


Hemmed in by gulches and trees on one side, 
and almost surrounded by the enemy, retreat 
was next to impossible. 

However, aided by the ditches and ravines 
they were able to hold the Missourians in check • 
for a short time. To their infinite relief, a body 
of horsemen came gallopping down the creek and 
before either party engaged in the conflict was 
aware of their presence had attacked the Mis- 
sourians in the rear. The Missourians, knowing 
the weakness of the foe in front, turned to meet 
their new assailants. 

For a few minutes the leaden hail rained 
upon the new arrivals almost incessantly, but, 
imitating the Missourians, the new comers had 
taken the advantage that the nature of the 
country permitted and were so well protected 
by trees, rocks and ditches that but trifling 
injury resulted from the spirited volley of the 
enemy. Both parties had dismounted at the 
beginning of the contest ; the late arrivals had 
sent their hoses to a safe cover, and by aid of 
the natural defenses were able to present an 
imposing front to the superior numbers of the 
Missourians, who were cautiously pushing for- 
ward their line of battle, and with every advance 
causing their foe to slowly fall back to new 
covers. 


79 


The retreating party had been driven to the 
verge of the timber. Between the timber and 
the hills that bounded the southern limits of the 
valey lay a narrow prairie or opening about 
three hundred yards in width. On the border 
of this opening the strangers made a more stub- 
born stand than had heretofore been made 
during the progress of the engagement. 

Suddenly their firing ceased. The Missou- 
rians moved slowly and cautiously forward. As 
if suspecting a stratagem to draw theni-into an 
ambush, they hesitated, but finally moved for- 
ward to the edge of the forest. No traces of 
their late foe were visible. 

The silver rays of the moon were falling 
upon the valley, flooding it with a light that 
almost rivaled the splendor of the sun. The 
horses of the Missourians had been brought to 
the front, and their riders having mounted, were 
awaiting orders from their captain, when the 
little band which had so valliantly resisted their 
advance, arose from the grass and hastily re- 
treated toward the adjacent hill. With wild, 
exulting yells the Missourians dashed after 
them. 

The pursuers were in the middle of the 
prairie and had almost reached the hindmost of 
their retreating foes, when suddenly the very 


8o 


elements around them seemed to be ablaze with 
livid streaks of fire. 

Living forms seemed to rise from the earth 
on every side. The prairie, so sullenly silent 
only a few moments before, was ringing with 
the angry warnings of the border rifle. The 
horsemen were warriors of the western frontier* 
and even in this dangerous extremity, main- 
tained the well earned prestige of the border 
cavalier. 

They collected, formed, and with disci- 
plined coolness attempted to charge upon the 
foe. But against this scarcely visible enemy 
their efforts were fruitless. 

The conflict grew fiercely wild. Time after 
time did “Col.” Sol. Higgins lead his troops in 
the charge, only to be greeted by the whizzing, 
whirring messengers of death which on every 
occasion sped on their errand of destruction, 
emptying saddles in the charging column with a 
rapidity that told how fearfully accurate had 
been the aim of the secret gunners. 

Again, in wild confusion, the horsemen 
dashed toward the hill, but ere they had reached 
its friendly shelter, another destructive volley 
was poured into their front which sent them back 
into the valley. 

In the midst of this confusion some one 


8i 


uttered the name of Brown ! The word passed 
from mouth to mouth : Brown ! Old Brown ! 
There seemed to be magic in that name. All 
further efforts to maintain discipline were of no 
avail. 

The strange panic which had so suddenly 
seized the Missourians was irresistible. They 
broke ranks and dashed down the valley, passing 
in their wild confusion, one of the bands of their 
enemy which had so recently checked one of 
their most vigorous charges, and, although they 
received the same response from the border rifle, 
they heeded it not, but rushed madly on, as if 
borne on the very wings of terror. 

The valley had now become a scene of wild 
confusion. In every direction might be heard 
the shouts of the retreating Missourians, calling 
to friends from whom they had been separated. 
Horses were neighing and, riderless, were gallop- 
ing frantically over the prairie. 

Soon, however, quiet reigned throughout 
the place so lately the arena of tumult and car- 
nage. Suddenly three shrill notes of the bugle 
sounded near the edge of the timber at the base 
of the hill, and in a very short time the entire 
Rifle company had assembled in response to the 
call. 

Among those who so promptly responded to 


82 


the signal were the strangers with whom the 
fortunes of war had thrown the Hoosier cavalier 
in the early part of the engagement. They had 
managed to keep on the flank of the enemy until 
an opportunity was given them to reach the hill, 
which they did just in time to hurl the Missou- 
rians back into the valley, when they sought the 
security of the bluff. 

While the Rifle Captain was talking with the 
young officer in command of the strangers, 
some unknown person appeared suddenly and 
beckoned him aside. After a few moments con- 
versation the Rifle Captain gave orders for no 
man to leave the spot until further orders, and 
with ten chosen men he rode across the valley 
and soon disappeared in the woods beyond. 

Where was he going ? What could be the 
purport of this midnight journey ? 

• Who was the stranger ? 

Mr. Skidmore imagined that he recognized 
in this sudden visitor the form and features of 
his late friend ‘‘Mr. Somebody,” alias Jerry 
Stibbons, alias Mr. Smith, alias he did not know 
whom. The stranger, whoever he might have 
been, was not disposed to make himself known 
to any one save the Captain, and after imparting 
his message to that personage, he disappeared 
^dmost as suddenly as he came. 


83 


Where was “Smith ?” 

No one knew. Some claimed that he acted 
as guide while Brown was arranging the am- 
bushment, while one man who had been a 
prisoner, stoutly maintained that “Smith” had 
been with the enemy, and that it was through 
his advice that “Col.” Higgins abandoned the 
defenses of his camp to follow the retreat of the 
skirmishing party sent forward by Brown. 

We will now ask the reader to accompany us 
to a place on Purgatory Creek, about two miles 
distant from the scene of the recent engage- 
ment. . 

In a large, “double-log” house, five men 
had assembled, just after the Missourians had 
been ’dispersed by Browrx’s victorious Rifles. 

They were making speedy preparations for 
a journey, and had nearly completed their col- 
lection of such articles as were deemed neces- 
sary for the camp when they were suddenly 
startled by a number of misiles falling upon the 
roof and clattering against the walls of the 
building. 

The occupants of the house rushed to the 
windows and doors to ascertain the cause. 

All is quiet. Not a living form can they 
detect, although the moon is flooding the earth 
with an ocean of light. 


84 


Within and without the building, silence 
reigns. 

The inmates after a long and anxious pause, 
quit their several stations and resume their 
preparations for departure. Again the misiles 
shower upon the roof. 

The evidence this time is plain. It is not 
the wind rattling among the loose boards. 

Some one is surely in close proximity to the 
house. 

Is it a friendly warning ? 

With weapons ready for an emergency of 
any character, those within approach the open- 
ings and look out into the moonlight. 

Who is there ? What is wanted ? Comes 
from within. 

No response. 

Fear and superstition add terror to the situa- 
tion of those inside the building. From whence 
came these misiles ? Surely not from mortal 
hands, for in all the broad level around the 
house not a living creature can be seen. 

The door opens softly, and a man appears 
in the moonlight and gazes anxiously around 
him. 

A keen report of a rifle echoes along the 
valley. 

The unfortunate victim with a wild shriek 


85 

springs into the air and falls face foremost upon 
the ground. 

The echoes roll along the valley and are 
soon lost in the distant hills. The house and 
surroundings are again as quiet as the voiceless 
regions of the dead. 

The anxious watchers are still standing at 
the openings peering out into the silver ocean 
around them. 

An hour has, passed, and yet no signs of 
life are visible in the vicinity of the besieged. 

Again the door opens, and four men spring 
out and rush toward the bushes which line the 
stream at no great distance from the house. 

It is a desperate venture ! 

Six rifles ring out an angry challenge, 

and send their death-dealing messengers after 
the flying fugitives. 

Two of the retreating party fall, but the 
others press swiftly on and have nearly reached 
the cover of the thicket when two men step sud- 
denly in front of them and with well aimed blows 
with their rifles strike them to the earth. 

A small band of men hastily gathers around 
the fallen foe. Those who had fallen before 
the discharge of the rifle, had finished their ac- 
counts with earth. 

The one lying near the door was Captain 


86 


Doylan, the proprietor of the premises. 

He had inaugurated the war in that part of 
the Territory, by repeatedly leading his band 
in deeds of violence against Free-State settlers, 
and now fate had made him a victim of his own 
designs. 

A rifle bullet had crashed into his forehead 
and touched that incomprehensible mystery cal- 
led life. 

The men who were struck down near the 
forest were disarmed and led to a venerable oak 
which spread its branches over no small portion 
of the earth. 

The captives were securely bound and placed 
upon horses which were led under the boughs of 
the tree. 

Ropes were tied to the overhanging limbs 
and securely fastened around the necks of the 
victims. 

In vain did the unfortunates plead for rhercy 
but the only response in answer to their implor- 
ing entreaty was: 

“Remember, Mariasdescygnes.” 

The horses were led away, leaving two hu- 
man forms swinging in the air, struggling, writh- 
ing, and gasping in the throes of death. 

A band of men rode away and disappeared 
n the forest. 


87 

By whom was this deed committed? There 
was no one left to tell the tale. 

If was fearfully accomplished, but by whom? 
History is silent. 

The victims of the “Swans Marsh” had been 
avenged. 

The stranger who had taken part in the late 
engagement in support of the Rifles, were a band 
of young adventurers who had been attracted by 
the already wide spread fame of the Rifle chief- 
tain, and had come to join his famous band. 

Their chosen captain was a young lawyer 
from Vermont, and, as the reader rightly sur- 
mises, was no other than Ablert Kingsley. 

While on their journey to join Brown, they 
had encountered the force commanded by Posy, 
at the ford, and having defeated the Missourian 
were led into the camp of “Col. Higgins” entire 
force ere they were aware of its presence in that 
part of the country. 

Young Kingsley and the Hoosier cavalier 
had been introduced to each other by somewhat 
peculiar circumstances, and as has often been 
human experience before, under the same con- 
ditions, they became friends. 

While sitting upon the ground, waiting for 
the dawn of day^ the Sovereign gave his new 
friend a full history of feitter Creek, and, of 


88 


course did not omit an enthusiastic biography of 
its charming inhabitant. 

They were reminded of what lay before them 
by the crimson streaks that began to steal across 
the eastern horizon, and their conversation on 
that occasion introduces this history to the 
reader. 

The rays of the morning sun were falling 
in streams of golded light upon the valley of 
Purgatory* (Wawawaha) Creek; the birds sang 
in the trees; the rippling brooks murmured 
sweetly as they glided swiftly on, in pleasing 
harmony with nature’s surroundings; the dew 
drops glittered like myriads of diamonds in the 
leafy forest, but in the midst of this garden of 
beauty, were the foot prints of death. 

The wild animals sniffed the air as they 
stealthily stole to their lairs and the hoarse 
croak of the raven was heard as he hovered over 
a field of death. 

There were: 

“A blush as of roses 
Where rose never grew ! 

Great drops on the bunch-grass, 

But not of the dew.” — (Whittier.) 

The national government had so decided. 

^Called Purgatory Creek for several years after the 
Border War. 


89 

The territorial governor had said “war.” 

The Missourians had commenced war, and 
war was the prevalent occupation of the ter- 
ritory. 


©l](3ipter \7lll. 

The scene of our narrative leads us to Cal- 
houn, the chief muster ground of the pro-slavery 
men of the territory. Calhoun was one of the 
“ river towns,” and was founded by “Col.” Sol 
Higgins, who had with his followers established 
it as a military point for the pro-slavery forces, 
and it also served as a nucleus for a settlement. 

Just outside the town, on an old Indian 
farm, “Col.” Higgins had laid out a plantation 
upon which he had placed several slaves, deter- 
mined, as he expressed it, “to larn the Yan- 
kees that niggers as well as sunflowers would 
bloom in Kansas.” 

“Col.” Higgins was a representative 
“Westerner.” He was born in Kentucky, but 
in early life had followed the star of fortune to 
the sand covered hills of Missouri, where he had 
“pitched his tent,” and in the course of time 
had become one of the aristocrats of the western 
frontier, having engaged largely in the remuner- 
ative business of raising “ niggers ” on northern 
soil. 

In public life Col. Higgins was a political 


91 


meteor. He had borne with becoming dignity, 
the titles of Squire, Judge, Captain, Major, and 
just before his advent into Kansas, with meteoric 
suddenness, he had flashed upon his commun- 
ity with the title of “Colonel.” From whence 
did his title come ? 

This question must forever remain among 
the “unknown mysteries.” 

In this vale of mortality there must ever be 
a multiplicity of unsolved riddles and the mys- 
tery that had woven itself around the “Colonel’s” 
title was one of them. In all similar cases (and 
you, reader, can call to memory a half score of 
them) details and “whys” and “wherefores”would 
only lead to embarrassments. 

Every life has its labyriqth of mystery, into 
which even the over curious must not look. 

Every human experience has its delicate as- 
sociations which must always be veiled in the 
mantle of privacy. The world is not just as we 
behold it. 

We are not just as others see us. 

But it was all the same to Mr. Higgins. He 
had captured his title, and his title had added 
largely to his already rapidly increasing fame as 
a border leader. 

Among the illustrious sons of Earth, there 
are many, very many, whose titles of “Captain,” 


92 


“Colonel,” “Major,” and “Governor,” have been 
developed in a spontaneous manner, even more 
mysterious than the one by which the honored 
prefix was tacked on to the name of Mr. Hig- 
gins. 

On the week following the defeat of the 
“Colonels” forces on Purgatory Creek the Mis- 
sourians assembled at Calhoun for the purpose 
of discussing the “outlook.” 

The meeting was one of the largest Pro- 
slavery gatherings ever witnessed in Kansas. 

From the settlements all along the line, from 
the “river towns,” and from many of the prin- 
cipal cities of western Missouri, crowds came 
streaming into the queen city of slavery, in an 
intensely high temperature of excitement over 
the events of the past week. Something had 
evidently gone wrong in the camp of the invin- 
cibles. 

Groups, assembled on various parts of the 
muster-grounds, might have been seen hotly dis- 
had cussing the late conflict. 

Various rumors were afloat, but nothing 
definite could be learned until the assembly was 
called to order by “Colonel” Higgins, who by 
virtue of his authority felt himself called upon to 
preside, and make a speech. 

The “Colonel” was not exactly himself that 


93 


day. He, perhaps on account of his recent harsh 
experience, was too full for utterance, and disa- 
pointed his enthusiastic admirers by making an 
unusually short speech. 

On other occasions he had always succeeded 
in moving his auditors to swears if not to tears, 
but on this occasion the tongue of the Missouri- 
an refused to wag. He only told his hearers 
how he had been attacked on Purgatory Creek 
by “Old Brown” with a thousand Abolitionists, 
and that after contending as long as possible 
against such “fearful odds,” he had in the best 
possible manner led his men from the field. 

The “Colonel” said but very little in regard 
to the late Purgatory Creek affair. 

Jerry Stibbins always maintained that it was 
because of a delicacy on the part of the Colonel 
who did not wish to make himself the hero of 
his own tale. 

The duty of reciting this Abolitionist out- 
rage devolved upon the Hon. Theopholis Spil- 
kins, a prominent South Carolinan, who had 
come to the front to assist the border sovereigns 
to squat in Kansas. 

The Hon. Mr. Spilkins had led a band of 
his countrymen in the late campaign, and in con- 
sequence was duly qualified to describe in his 
peculiar manner that unpleasant mingling of dis- 


94 


similar elements. 

The speech, which' was printed in the Cal- 
houn Sovereign with whole paragraphs set in 
bold capitals, was pronounced by the orator’s 
friends to have been the greatest effusion of or- 
atory that the world had witnessed since De- 
mosthenes declaimed against the oppressor of 
Greece. 

To attempt a description of the address 
would be unpardonable presumption on the part 
of the writer. 

A short extract will give the reader a bet- 
ter idea of a Pro-slavery speech in high tempera- 
ture, and, wishing to deal justly with the orator, 
we here insert it: 

“Missourians, South Carolinans, and friends in a 

glorious cause: — 

“Under the azure arches of heaven, we have 
met this beautiful day for mutual consultation. 

“The hand that threatens death and destruc- 
tion to our liberties, and inalienable rights, as a 
free and independent people, is already raised 
on high and if unrestrained will fall with a force 
that will sweep us from the earth. 

“Our rights are trampled beneath the feet of 
tyrants. All that is dear to the heart of the high 
born children of the glorious, chivalrous, liberty- 
loving, hospitable south is in imminent dan- 


ger of being snatched cruelly and maliciously 
away. 

‘'The invader is already Knocking down the 
landmarks of the fathers, and storming the cita- 
del of human rights. (Prolonged cheering). 

“The nigger lovers are abroad in the land 
(Applause, and cries of “give ’em — 11.”) 

“The black Abolitionists have committed 
another murder and added more hapless victims 
to their long category of crime. (Applause.) 

“The hour of peril has arrived. (Tremen- 
dous cheering.) 

“The nigger lovers have organized for the 
destruction of the human family. (Wild and pro- 
longed cheering.) 

“They have secretly devised a hellish plan 
to murder every Pro-slavery man and ravish 
every Pro-slavery woman that comes into the 
territory. (Applause.) 

“Our liberties are throttled and we as a race 
are on the verge of extinction. (Applause, loud 
and long.) 

“These cussed Abolitionists intend to have 
a nigger president, a nigger government and 
niggers sitting in high places, flourishing like 
green bay trees, 'while we with our wives and 
children must bow before them and kiss their 
feet in degraded servility. (Applause.) 


96 


“ Friends! Missourians! Carolinans! and my 
beloved countrymen, must we submit to all this? 

“Must we be led like pet lambs to the slaugh- 
ter? 

“Is the blood of our illustrious ancestors 
clogged in our veins that we should thus tamely 
succumb to the villiany of nigger tyrants ? 

“Our noble comrade, Col. Higgins, will sus- 
tain me when I tell you that the recent massacre 
on Purgatory Creek is without parallel in the 
records of history. 

“Your gallant leader went into that section 
for the purpose of establishing law and order, 
and in return for his devoted patriotism, 
he was assailed by Abolitionists in count- 
less numbers, and a goodly number of his 
gallant followers went down before the unnum- 
bered legions of the demon Brown. (Cheers.) 

“And who, my fellow countrymen, is this 
man Brown? Good authority informs us that 
he is a creature of low birth, and unworthy the 
notice of a gentleman. 

“A gentleman should not condescend to even 
notice a being of such low origin, unless it be to 
bestow his contempt. ” 

A voice from "the audience — “We did not 
even stop to bestow upon him our contempt 
down on Purgatory.” (Cheers, confusion in the 




'- >.,' ■»* . ■ i ^ '-■'■■ ■- -'•'sfi'I'i- 


97 

audience, and Mr. Spilkins pursues his theme.) 

“Such an insignificant, low born man is a fit 
tool to carve a monument to be raised in the 
name of Abolitionism: 

“The demon and his minions, not contented 
with their dastardly assault on the gallant band 
led by “Colonel” Higgins, went to the home of 
Doylan, an inoffensive man who lived on Purga- 
tory Creek, and shot him down, just as if he had 
been a miserable beast. 

“That is the way the Abolitionists propose 
to carry on this war. They will skulk around 
and murder defenseless men, and only meet us in 
open battle when they number ten to our one. 

“Bring on your Browns and your Lanes. 
Let them meet us in manly battle and we will 
show them that we are Lions of a glorious stock 
that never turned a back upon a foe.” (Cheers^ 
and loud cries of that’s the stuff, “give us more of 

it.’) 

“Where is the low-born Captain of the nig- 
ger lovers ? 

' “Let him come here, and we will fight him, 
although he should outnumber us five to one. 
(Wild applause.) 

Just at this moment Mr. Spilkins was inter- 
rupted in his enthusiastic outburst. 

The crowd had assembled on the muster 




98 


grounds in the edge of the timber through which 
ran one of the principal roads, leading from 
Calhoun. 

A horseman came dashing wildly through 
the woods and pressing his way through the dif- 
ferent groups, reined his panting horse in front 
of the speakers stand. 

The stranger was a young man. His sud- 
den entrance into the assembly caused a suspen- 
sion of its proceedings, and anxiously the mem- 
bers gathered around the youth to learn the 
cause of his sudden interruption. 

The stranger said that while coming over 
from the river to attend the meeting just on the 
farther side of the timber, he had been suddenly 
surrounded by Brown and his men and taken 
prisoner, and learned from them that they were 
moving secretly through the timber to surprise 
those engaged in the meeting at that place. He 
also stated that he had contrived to escape, and 
had not been fired'^upon in his retreat as that 
would have betrayed the presence of Brown and 
his men who must by that time be within gun- 
shot of the grounds. 

To say that such a report created a panic 
would be putting it lightly. Without ceremony 
the recent belligerants darted like frightened 
deer into the timber. 


99 


The panic was indiscriminately contagious. 
“Coloner‘ Higgins was at his post in the van of 
his command and Mr. Spilkins demonstrated 
clearly and forcibly to the most skeptical that 
he could retreat as eloquently as he could de- 
claim. 

The scene was a panorama of flying coat 
tails, and after they disappeared, not a soul was 
to be seen on the muster grounds for several 
hours. 

The youth who sounded the alarm was seen 
in Calhoun “taking in the place” and enjoying 
what might have been called a genuine frontier 
spree, and before taking his departure he ac- 
knowledged that he had not been made a prison- 
er by Brown, but had only met a stranger who 
had promised to give him a quart of “corn juice” 
if he would “give the boys a breeze.” 

As no traces of Brown could be discovered, 
and as the confession of the stranger explained 
the nature of the alarm, the participants in the 
days proceedings assembled at Calhoun in the 
evening and resumed their deliberations. 

The different organizations which repre- 
sented the Pro-Slavery cause in Kansas were 
represented in the Calhoun meeting. 

The “Blue Lodges,” the “Kickapoo Rang- 
ers,” the “Border Tigers,” the “Knights of Or- 


lOO 


der,” and the “Invincibles” were by their badges 
conspicuous among the members of the assem- 
bly. 

The final result of the conference was the 
selection of a recruiting committee whose duty 
was to visit the principal cities of the South, hold 
meetings, and organize companies of Squatters, 
for Kansas. 

Several months were allowed for the re- 
cruiting in the South, and then the entire army, 
was to meet at Missouri, organize and move en- 
masse into Kansas. The' movement was well 
arranged, and well conducted. 

Conspicuous among the agents chosen for 
this important trust were Messrs. Spilkins and 
Stibbins, the former to act as orator on “big oc- 
casions” and the latter to act as guide to the 
army through the perils of crossing the border^ 
Mr. Spilkins also wished to take advantc^ge 
of the opportunity to move some of his slaves 
from Traderstown, S. C., to Kansas. 


©l]0ipter 1^. 

The time allotted for the agents to perform 
their work having expired, according to previous 
appointment, the prospective squatters concen- 
trated at Westville. 

The result was very flattering to those to 
whom the mission had been entrusted. 

There were representatives from all sec- 
tions of the South, and prominent upon the plat- 
form from which Mr. Spilkins poured forth his 
eloquence were men whose names were not 
unknown in National history. 

In the audience the wildest enthusiasm pre- 
vailed. 

There were Missourians, Carolinans, Georgi. 
ans, Mississippians, “Arkansawyers,” Texans^ 
and representatives of nearly all the other grades 
of creation, mingled in one heterogeneous mass, 
actuated by one purpose — the subjugation of 
Kansas to the interest of the slave power of the 
South. 

On a beautiful morning in early summer the 




102 


gay crusaders moved toward their destined 
goal. 

After an uninterrupted march of a week the 
train halted on the bank of Silver Creek, one 
mile within the territory. 

Jerry Stibbins had selected the camping 
ground, as both feed and water were amply pro- 
vided by nature. 

Long ere the sun had disappeared behind 
the western hills, the prospective sovereigns 
were busily engaged in the usual duties of the 
camp. The horses and mules were leisurely- 
feeding in the valley below. 

The evening was one of the loveliest among 
the lovely — a summer evening eminently calcu- 
lated to make a man feel lazily contented with 
the world. 

The appointed hour for these sovereigns 
arrant to sup had now arrived, and having 
gathered around the different camp fires they 
were waging a destructive war upon the bill of 
fare afforded by the royal larder. 

The festive black bottle with its magic con- 
tents was aimed and fired at many a visage that 
shrank not from the danger of the deadly dis- 
charge. 

Good cheer in the form of liquid sanguinity 
had chased every thought of danger, prudence 


103 


or caution from the minds of these jolly would- 
be sovereigns. 

The revelry grew boisterous. 

So far from deporting themselves like sover- 
eigns arrant, these representatives of prospec- 
tive royalty had cast aside their sovereign dig- 
nity as a man would cast aside a superfluous 
garment and were making the welkin ring with 
the effusions of their rapidly increasing good 
humor. 

Forgetting the limits within which all well 
regulated sovereigns are held by the dignity of 
their station, some of these festive revellers broke 
through all the restraints that pride and station 
can bestow, and were soon “doing in improved 
style” all the refinements of a border carousal, 
and, in the language of a western poet, “cutting 
scallops in the balmy air” of that beautiful sum- 
mer afternoon. 

The tumult had reached the point at which 
order or discipline would have been impossible. 

The mellov/ sensations imparted to the fes- 
tive crusaders by the magic bottle had broken 
down all distinctions, for the negroes had been 
treated to a goodly quantity of the elixir, and 
were at that time evidently forgetful of the fact 
that such an institution as slavery existed. 

An ebony son of the south, with his white 


104 


teeth shinning from an ample mouth which stood 
^ike a gate ajar, his milky eyes rolling in 
ecstatic delight, sat in the center of the revellers, 
and with a banjo, a talisman that never fails to 
swell the negro’s emotions, was adding a thrill- 
big inspiration to the mellow spirited rioters. 

The haughty Caucasian and the enslaved 
child of Ham had met at last under circumstances 
that ignored all matters of birth, ancestry and 
personal distinctions, and together were per- 
forming all the refined gymnastics of a “ corn 
juice ” carousal. 

Suddenly from the wooded hill at the south- 
ern base of which the camp had been formed, a 
body of armed men dashed down upon the camp, 
and ere its occupants had recovered from the 
surprise at this sudden interruption to their fes- 
tivities, they found themselves under cover of 
menacing rifles and completely at the mercy of 
their assailants. 

In the intemperate confusion that prevailed 
in the camp no effectual resistance could be 
opposed to the assailing party, and, after a vain 
effort to reach the firearms which had been 
stacked near the wagons, and were already in 
the hands of the enemy, there was nothing left 
but to submit without resistance. 

Mr. Spilkins, conscious of the disadvantage 


to which the enemy had reduced him, approached 
his captors, and with pride and humiliation 
struggling for mastery within him, demanded an 
explanation of the attack on his camp. 

The commander of the assailants replied as 
follows : 

“You have brought your men to Kansas to 
aid the Missourians against the honest citizens 
of the territory. War is already raging and we 
came forth to meet you in honest battle. It was 
our intention to take no advantage, save those 
allowed in lawful warfare. It was our purpose 
to ambush you from yonder hill, but we came to 
war with men and not with those who retain the 
images of men but degrade them with habits 
lower than those of beasts. We have witnessed 
your ungodly debaucheries, and scorn to waste 
the powder that should be burnt upon the altar 
of freedom on such contemptible foes. No, no, 
the Rifles will meet any band of vvarriors in open 
battle, but of the blood of drunken rioters we 
will shed never a drop. Believe you not that 
there is a God who wills that the creatures who 
bear his image upon the earth should bear the 
spirit of temperance and sobriety in their lives, 
but you by your unholy riotings have disgraced 
the noblest work of creation.” 

“ Who,” demanded the hot blooded South 


io6 


Carolinan, “ is it that dares to thus insult the 
chivalrous sons of the South ? Do you know, 
sir, to whom you have offered this gross insult ? 
Such an insult, sir, is unpardonable and will be 
met by all it merits.” 

As Mr. Spilkins continued speaking, his 
anger increased until he appeared in imminent 
danger of breaking forth with volcanic fierceness 
at the next upheaval. 

He repeated his question: “Who is it, I 
repeat, that dares insult gentlemen of southern 
birth .? ” 

“For your birth,” replied the other, “we 
care not, and if you wish to know who we are> 
your curiosity shall be gratified. We are some- 
times called the Border Rifles.” 

There was a visible change in the manner 
of Mr. Spilkins. He knew that he was talking 
to the far famed chieftain of the 'Rifles, John 
Brown, and the warning hiss of an adder would 
not have caused him to recoil more hastily than 
he shrank from the man before him. 

Historians tell us that the name of Coeur 
de Lion was once terrible enough to throw a 
whole regiment of Musselmen into a panic, and 
it seemed that there was scarcely less magic in 
the name of John Brown on the western frontier, 
during the border war. 


107 


The irritated tones of the 'South Carolin- 
an had somewhat restore their equilibrium, 
if an equilibrum could have been said to exist 
where so many tottering forces tended to op- 
pose it, and seeing how insignificant were the 
numbers of the enemy which the sudden fright 
caused by the attack had magnified into legions, 
the prisoners had begun to show signs of resist- 
ance, but when Mr. Spilkins so unceremoniously 
retreated before the Rifle chieftain, and in- 
voluntarily uttered the name of Brown, all 
omens of hostility vanished, and the utmost con- 
sternation and terror took possession of the 
camp. 

So great was the fame of the Rifle chief that 
even those who dwelt in a remote part of the 
country had linked his name with terror. 

With anxiety unconcealed the recent rioters 
huddled together like so many sheep at the ap- 
proach o^ the wolf. 

“There is,” said the Rifle chief, “but one 
atonement for your sinful deeds. Let every 
man except the slaves, kneel in a line before 
me.” 

Never was a military order more quickly 
obeyed. With hasty glances toward the dreaded 
Rifles, the crusaders bowed before their stern 
captor, with a promptness and dispatch which 


io8 


demonstrated how quickly and concertedly men 
can act when reduced to what they deem a fear- 
ful extremity. 

Producing a pocket Bible, Brown presented 
it in turn to every kneeling mortal before him. 

“First,” said he, “you must ask Almighty 
God to pardon you for the wicked debauchery 
in your camp, and secondly, you must ask for- 
giveness for the' evil you meditated against the 
honest settlers of Kansas.” 

Each of the trembling “sovereigns” was 
commanded to repeat after Brown a form 
of petition to the Eternal, suited to the above 
named delinquencies. 

After the conclusion of these strange peti- 
tions, the supplicants were ordered to lay their 
hands upon the bible and repeat an oath obliga- 
ting themselves to return to their former homes 
and never again pass within the limits of Kan- 
sas until slavery should have been abolished. 

To the oath, Messrs. Spilkins and Stibbins 
were exceptions. 

To the latter Brown said, “Go tell your 
brethren of the Blue Lodge what you this day 
have witnessed. Tell them that true men shed 
blood only when pressed by stern necessity.” 

“You, Theopholis Spilkins, may go to Cal- 
houn and report to your friends. Marvel not 


109 


that we retain you not as a prisoner. 

“You do your deeds of warwith your tongue 
and such men are harmless. 

“There are kindred spirits among those who 
claim to be the champions of freedom — men who 
talk without ceasing, and seem to think that this 
great crusade is to be only a war of words. 

“Yes, go, Mr. Spilkins, the Rifles will not 
be burdened with a harmless prisoner. Go tell 
your friend. Colonel Higgins, that we are anxious 
to meet him again, as it is our purpose to fight 
and not talk. 

“We will take charge of the colored men; 
your arms and ammunition must go to Liberty, 
to be used by the company Border-Freemen, 
recently organized at that place. 

“And to those who have taken the oath to 
leave this territory, just one word of warning. 
Return to the places from whence you came, and 
all will be well, but beware of the danger that 
follows the breaking of an oath. There will 
doubtless be many conflicts,, and many prisoners 
taken ere this war ends, and an evil day will it 
be for a man who has broken his oath should he 
fall into the power of the Rifles.” 

There were many in that company who 
never violated the oath, but returned to the land 
from whence they had come, and many and 

8 


no 

marvelous were the stories, they told in after 
years, of their thrilling adventure with the “ter- 
ror of the border.” 


ni 



(Bl]apter 

About fifteen miles distant from Calhoun, 
in the picturesque valley of Buffalo Creek, lay 
the Aqurishing little village of Sumnerville. 

The citizens of Sumnerville had not taken 
an active part in the struggle and with the ex- 
ception of their having given a decided Anti- 
slavery vote at the territorial election, they 
might have been considered neutral. In those 
days “whosoever was not for Caesar” was against 
him. 

On a calm summer night, the third subse- 
quent to the one on which the Pro-slavery train 
was disbanded on Silver Creek, fifty armed men 
rode out of Calhoun and after crossing the val- 
ley, disappeared in the shadows of the southern 
hills. 

Onward the nocturnal horsemen pursued 
their way, appearing at intervals like spectral 
forms on the crest of some distant bluff. Not a 
sound disturbed the stillness of the prairie, save 


II2 


the howl of the gray wolf as if his instincts 
augured the meaning of this midnight ride, and 
keeping at a safe distance, a pack of these deni- 
zens of the prairie followed their human proto- 
types as though in hungry anticipation of anoth- 
er feast on the “field of the dead.” 

On, on, the horsemen pursued their way, and 
just as the moon was hanging above the summit 
of the western hills, pouring her departing 
shower of silver light upon the valley of Buffalo 
Creek, they halted upon a swell of ground that 
overlooked the doomed village of Sumnerville. 
All unconscious of the gathering storm the citi- 
zens of the ill-fated village were, as they sup- 
posed, sleeping in the security of honest inten- 
tions and peaceful, industrial habits. 

The moon is just sinking, and her departing 
rays as they fall aslant upon the objects around 
the village, lend their fantastic aid to transform 
the place into a scene of mournful and solemn 
beauty. 

Time has passed the point that marks the 
midnight hour. 

The streets which during the day have been 
thronged with life, are now deserted. The places 
of public thoroughfare have all been closed. Not 
even the warning bark of a dog can be heard to 
apprise the sleepers of the impending danger. 


All is as quiet as the silent city of the dead. 

Hark! There are footsteps in the street! 
A disturbed sleeper turns himself over on his 
couch and listens. It was only fancy or the 
tread of a straying cow, and the drowsy disciple 
of Morpheus is soon perambulating in the land 
of dreams. 

Again, there are sounds in the street! Hu- 
man forms are stealthily gliding to and fro 
among the houses. What is that! 

A cry, like the smothered shriek of some one 
in mortal agony, and all is again as silent as the 
voiceless domains of nature. 

From within one of the houses where the 
peaceful pursuits of commerce have been carried 
on during the past day, come clamors like those 
produced by men in deadly strife, but it is only 
for an instant, and is easily mistaken for a sleep- 
ing fancy. 

The inhabitants of Sumnerville still slum- 
ber unconscious of the danger that hangs over 
them. 

The village dogs, at last aroused, are com- 
mencing to send forth warning challenges. At 
last a citizen springs from his bed and rushes to 
the door that opens upon the street. His vision 
is met by streaks of livid flame that leap upward 
from more than twenty buildings, and at the 


»same instant the angry report of a half-dozen 
rifles ring out in the stillness of the night. 

A woman rushes to the door and with a 
dying groan the hapless victim falls dead at her 
feet. 

The flames leap high into the rigions of 
space. Combustible matter has been piled 
against the houses preparatory to the conflagra- 
tion, and has been fired in every part of the vil- 
lage. 

The terrified citizens, ignorant of the nature 
of the danger, rush into the street, and in the 
glaring light are shot down by the assailants 
who in the tumult and confusion are invisible. 

Although many of the buildings are yet 
unseasoned, they burn with a fierceness that 
challenges description. 

The stores have been opened, gallons of oil 
have been thrown upon the walls of the houses 
and igniting with the rush of the fire, throw 
waves of flame apparently to the very heavens. 

Undaunted by the frightful fate of his 
neighbors who have hazarded similar danger, a 
man is seen to rush from the door of a house 
and, looking wildly around him, commences to 
scatter the burning rubbish that is piled high 
against his dwelling. 

In the disordered state of his scattered 


faculties he is unable to realize the danger of his 
surroundings. The red flames leap high above 
his head, and as for an instant he turns from his 
onerous task, attracted by the increasing fury of 
the fiery tempest around him, he reveals features 
that seem the very incarnation of terror. He is 
soon, however, relieved from the painful task. 

A rifle sends another messenger of death, and, 
throwing his hands violently upward, the unfor- 
tunate being staggers headlong into the raging 
flames and is seen no more. 

So suddenly disturbed in their midnight 
slumbers, men in wild confusion, women and 
children, screaming frantically, rush from the 
blazing habitations into the streets. Nor does 
the work of carnage abate, but even seems to 
surpass the desolation of the flames. 

Wherever a form is exposed in the lurid 
arena, the relentless invaders turn their rifles 
upon it with an accuracy that tells how hell- 
ishly fiendish is their purpose. 

The burning roofs are falling in, sending up 
a fresh discharge of smoke and flame. 

At the northern limits of the village stands 
a two-story building of somewhat commodious 
dimensions. Over the door that opens upon the 
western street, a sign upon which the words 
“Travelers’ Refuge” have been badly painted 


ii6 

has been swinging backward and forward all day, 
inviting the hungry to eat and the weary to rest. 
From this place so recently a scene of hospitali- 
ty and cheerfulness, people are rushing franti- 
cally into the street, and crowd, jam, jostle, and 
push each other around in their mad efforts to 
reach the ground, each one seemingly intent only 
on personal safety and apparently disregardful 
of the danger of others. The house is enveloped 
in sheets of livid flame ere the guests reach the 
uncertain security of the earth. 

The movement at this point has evidently 
escaped the vigilance of the invaders for the re- 
cent occupants of the “Travelers Refuge” remain 
for a time unmolested. 

The devouring elements throw forth their 
glarish light. 

Hark! There is yet some one in the house! 

A wild cry as from some one suddenly 
startled from unconscious slumber to the reali- 
zation of a terrible danger is heard above the 
roaring of the conflagration and almost simul- 
taneously a female form appears at one of the 
windows of an upper room. In the light of the 
glaring flames her pallid face, fragile form, and 
the awful, yet subdued terror so plainly depict- 
ed in every expression of her countenance, form 
a strange contrast to the raging fury around her. 




The fire has spread over the walls and roof 
of the building, and although the doors have 
been closed the interior is rapidly filling with 
smoke and a scorching heat that is almost un- 
endurable. 

Who could it be.? What young lady could 
be there without a friend.? Some of the inmates 
of the “Travelers Refuge” remembered to have 
seen the young lady at the hotel the evening 
before in company with a gentleman whom they 
had understood to be her father. Yes, they had 
now identified the stranger at the window. She 
was the daughter of the new missionary who had 
come to the Delaware Agency to take charge of 
the Mission work among the Indians. 

Therefore the recent inmates of the Refuge 
had accomplished something toward the rescue 
of the woman in peril. 

That she was in danger, and that she was 
fully identified were facts which were evidently 
deemed of great importance to the lady. 

In great confusion they are hurrying back 
and forth beneath the window, every one seem- 
ingly able to advise somebody else how to act 
and what to do, but no one seems disposed to 
venture on so dangerous an undertaking. 

In wild, terrific splendor, the flaming bil" 
lows roll upward, throwing their fantastic light 


ii8 


far into the adjacent forest. 

Again the face appears at the window, and 
aided by the light those without are enabled to 
scrutinize it closely. 

The face is that of a young lady of eigh- 
teen or twenty summers. 

Although a deathly paleness which almost 
suggests the absence of life has taken possession 
of her features, not a word has she spoken since 
her first exclamation of terror, but stands with 
blanched face and fixed eyes looking upon the 
frightful scene like some one charmed or held 
by an irresistible but unseen power. 

Will no one save her! Those without the 
building call to her, but she appears deaf to 
their cries. Some attempt to place planks 
against the walls beneath the window and there- 
by form a way of escape, but the intense fury of 
the heat renders such efforts fruitless. The fire 
suddenly bursts into the interior of the building^ 
and some one having thrown open the doors, it 
rages with an impetuosity that rivals even that 
outside. 

Once more the imperiled girl is seen stand- 
ing apparently with the glaring flames rolling in 
angry waves above her head. Her hands are 
clasped, and she seems to be looking upward as 
one in the attitude of prayer. 


The flames are rapidly devouring the dry 
material in the lower rooms, and are just break- 
ing through the upper floors when a man hereto- 
fore unseen rushes into the crowd and violently 
pushing aside those who stood before the door- 
way, enters the house and instantly disappears 
in its lurid interior. 

Those outside had scarcely recovered from 
their surprise at the bold daring of the stranger 
when he again appeared at the door bearing in 
his arms the unconscious form of the young lady 
so recently imprisoned among the flames. 

But ere this generous deed had been per- 
formed, the invaders were firing into the crowd 
that surrounded the “Travelers Refuge,” causing 
it to disperse with a concert and rapidity that 
clearly demonstrated how well the frontier rifle 
was known and respected. 

The hero who had so bravely risked his 
own life to save another, did not hesitate for a 
moment when he reached the ground, but as the 
flaming roof fell in with a tremendous crash, he 
deposited his helpless burden at the foot of an 
immense oak in the security of the forest shades, 
at a safe distance from the scene of danger. 
Some water from a brook close by revived the 
unconscious girl from the swoon into which she 
had been thrown, and when she awoke from the 


120 


stupor, she found herself reclining against a tree, 
apparently alone, and in a darkness that seemed 
impenetrable. 

The sensations of a young girl placed in a 
situation so embarrassing can be more readily 
imagined than described. 

She opened her eyes with a faint exclama- 
tion of surprise, and was endeavoring to collect 
her disordered faculties when she heard a voice 
near her exclaiming, “Well, Miss, you’ve had a 
sort of skeery time of it, but you are safe now. 
Just as safe as if sleepin’ in the finest house in 
America. Don’t be excited, for I’m a friend 
and at your sarvice.” 

“Where am I! Who are you!” exclaimed 
the young lady, looking anxiously around in the 
darkness, and at last discovering the figure of 
her rescuer, who stood at a respectful distance. 

“Tell me in Gods name how came I in this 
place! Where is my papa.^” 

“ I fetched you here myself.” 

“The town is all in flames, and this night do 
men perform deeds that are blacker than the 
gloom of this forest. I found you in the hotel 
where you had been left to perish, and havin’ 
rescued you from the fire, I fetched you out into 
the woods where you would be free from the 
bullets that are flyin’ thicker than good inten- 


21 


tions in the streets of the burnin’ town.” 

“ O yes, I remember, I was in the hotel 
when it was burning-, and you saved me when I 
was so nearly in the jaws of death. Who are 
you.^ Tell me your name, that I may know to 
whom I am indebted for my life, and to whom to 
render the sincere thanks of my heart.” 

“Gal, you have asked something that I am. 
not sure should be given. ’Tis not the custom 
of the border to ask who does this, or who does 
that, for a man is generally known by his deeds. 
More' than one name have I had under different 
carcumstances, and although I’ve one name 
handed down to me by good and honorable par- 
ents, I haint always felt like mixin’ it in with 
the evil and crookedness of the border, conse- 
quently I’ve sometimes bor’red other names. 

“This is a time of war, and many are the 
deeds done by them that scout on the frontier, 
that would not be honorable in time of peace, 
but in war they are lawful. 

“This is a different path, howsoever, and 
although we haf to be skittish with men in war, 
we must be square in our dealins’ with women, 
and since you’ve been civil enough to ax, I will 
be civil enough to answer. 

“My parents who have both been dead 
now goin’ on twelve years, was surnamed Stib- 


122 


bins, and of course that will help you to guess 
at my name. In the good book, they writ my 
tother name Jerry, which bein’ put agin’ ’tother 
would read Jerry Stibbins. 

“Now as one question always gives riz’ to 
another, may I have the honor to know your 
name and how you come to be at the hotel 
alone, or it seems alone.” 

“My name,” said the girl, “is Anna Kam- 
man. My father has gone to the Delaware Agen- 
cy to make arrangements for our stay among 
that people, as he is to take charge of the mis- 
sion work at their chief village.” 

“You’re the Parson’s darter. The great 
chief of the Delawares told me that when I was 
in his lodge ’tother day that a servant of the 
great Manitaw was soon to come among them to 
teach peace and wisdom to the Nation. Al- 
though, perhaps, not ’zactly of the Parson’s way 
of actin’, I’m somewhat of his way of thinkin’, 
and that counts for more than a little. My fath- 
er and mother were both religious, and although 
I can’t say as much of their religion stuck to me. 
I’m sort ’o bent that way, and if the Parson needs 
the sarvices of Jerry Stibbins, let him say and 
it shall be done, but, gal, never, or at least till I 
give you permission, mention the humble name 
of him who has had the honor to help you from 


123 


a mighty ticklish position.” 

“I will comply with your request, and if the 
blessings and prayers of a good man are to be 
prized, you will have them both, for my father 
and I owe you a debt of gratitude that a life- 
time of the sincerest friendship could not re- 
pay.” 

“Say no more about it, gal. The debt is 
paid by our obligations to always give aid to 
creeters in distress, but as for the parsons pray- 
ers, I .make no bones of sayin’ that owin’ to the 
onsartin’ state of society on the border, there 
haint no doubt that I need ’em, and if he will 
just put in a good word for me now and then, 
it will help to balance some of the crookedness 
that is once in awhile forced upon a feller dur- 
in’ this war.” 

At this juncture the conversation was in- 
terrupted by a sheet of fire that shot toward the 
vaulted heavens, throwing its vivid light into 
the shades of the forest, illuminating it with a 
brightness that equalled that of mid-day. We 
must leave Miss Kamman and^^her new friend in 
the forest and ask the reader to return with us 
to the scene of destruction at the village. 

The tragedy of death and destruction is 
still going on. 

The inhabitants are all forced from their 


124 


dwelling’s into the streets, where the ruthless 
foes have them at their mercy. 

Men attempt to break away from the awful 
scene, but in their efforts to save wives and 
children, are shot down like beasts. 

The groans of the dying, the frantic shreaks 
of wives bending over the prostrate forms of 
husbands, and the wailing of children add terrific 
importance to the dark tragedy, and the deliber- 
ate coolness with which the merciless invaders 
perpetuate their frightful deeds reflects in plain- 
est imagery upon the vision a scene in the Pan- 
demonium. 

One large building somewhat apart from the 
others had for a time escaped the fury of the 
fire. 

Suddenly aflame of terrific brightness darts 
upward and for a time the abyssmal depths of 
space seem metamorphosed into an ocean of fire. 
The flash is almost instantly followed by a tre- 
mendous crash that seems to rent the very ele- 
ments, causing the ground to tremble like the 
shock of a mighty earthquake. 

The magnificent grandeur of this appalling 
scene arrests even the attention of the survivors 
of the storm of death which in its maddened fury 
has raged without restraint, and after they re- 
cover from the shock, their eyes involuntarily 


125 


turned toward the building which only a few 
moments before stood apparantly unharmed. 
Not a vestage of it remains. Some of its burning 
fragments have been thrown high into the air 
and fell at a distance of many hundred feet from 
their former site. 

The invaders have from this building watch- 
ed the progress of the storm, and at the time of 
the explosion several of them were standing with- 
in it, and if the land of the blest is any where in 
the depths above, they were in all probability 
wafted as near its border as they are likely to be 
again for many ages to come. 

Unlike their renowned prototype, the Isreal- 
ite prophet, in taking their ierial flight in a 
chariot of fire, these aeronautites failed to drop a 
mantle on any of the lingering sons of earth. 

There were several kegs of blasting powder 
stored in the house last spoken of, and it ap- 
peared that one of the marauders, more eager 
than his comrades in crime, had thrown some 
blazing brands into the very corner where this 
dangerous explosive was stored with the already 
described result. 

In the catastrophe that followed several of 
the assassins fell victims to their own dark deeds, 
and those who escaped fled precipitately from 
the scene of their guilt, and having reached 


9 


126 


their horses which had been left on the ridge 
above the village, they rode rapidly away. 

There was something in the frightful targedy 
that horrified even these rough spirits of the 
border, whose hearts were little accustomed to 
the feelings of humanity, but when this appar- 
ently fearful retribution fell upon some of their 
number, superstition lent its aid to the terror of 
the scene, and all the treasures of Aladdin’s 
palace could not have induced these bloody in- 
cendiaries to remain longer upon the field of 
their crime. 

In after years, a prominent journalist en- 
deavored to excuse this horrible deed, urging 
that the perpetrators only took the advantages 
allowed in lawful war, and that the women who 
suffered might have escaped but for their stub- 
born determination to remain in the midst of 
danger. 


<BI]apter 

The following morning dawned in resplen- 
dent beauty; the birds sang their joyous songs in 
their leafy homes; the dew drops glistened like 
sparkling jewels as they danced in the rays of 
the rising sun; the verdant woodlands and roll- 
ing prairies were bathed in a sea of light; and 
not a cloud was to be seen in the azure depths 
above to mar the transcendent beauty of a 
“western morning.” 

While the unfortunate citizens of Sumner- 
ville were searching for their dead among the 
smoking ruins of their town, a man was stand- 
ing, sleepily rubbing his eyes, in front of a cabin 
on the Winding Serpent, a stream about six 
miles distant from Calhoun. 

To the east of the cabin, winding its way 
first east, then south, through marshy prairies, 
between bluffs, and along low valleys, ran the 
murky waters of the restless Missouri, as its 
waves, like the river of time, rolled on and on 
toward the sea. 


128 


The western limits of the valley were bound- 
ed by a spur of the “Blue Ridges,” which marked 
for many miles the course of the Winding Ser- 
pent and terminated in the highlands of its 
source. 

The house, or rather cabin, was built of un- 
hewn logs, with clapboard roof, and floor of 
terra-firma. 

On one side a hole had been cut for a win- 
dow, and the door was complete in everything 
except the shutter, for which had been substi- 
tuted a puncheon that was held in the proper 
position by a prop whenever necessity demanded 
it. 

The proprietor of this border mansion was 
a tall young man who had passed on the jour- 
ney of life the “sign-board” that marks the half- 
way point. His hair was long and untamed 
and hung ii7 promiscuous profusion upon his 
shoulders, while his whiskers, as rich in “witch- 
nests” as a colt’s tail, fell in tangled meshes 
upon his home-spun shirt front. 

With one hand placed over his eyes to ob- 
struct the dazzling light of the rising sun, this 
squatter soverign was scanning the valley when 
a party of horsemen appeared on its southern 
border and slowly approached the cabin. 

The travelers dismounted in front of the 


129 


cabin and were welcomed by the proprietor. 

“Hornin’, Major! Hello, boys! we’ve been 
expectin’ ye and the old woman has got break- 
fast a waitin on ye, so jist let the beys take 
keer of yer critters and all of ye come in.” 

“Hi-yi-ho! thar, Bill, Jake, Joe, Jack, Jim- 
and Sam, you sleepy devils’ git up and put the 
Major’s horses to grass.” 

In response to this paternal decree, several 
young' gentlemen came swaggering into the yard 
and the host and his guests entered the mansion 
to^attack the morning meal, which consisted of 
“corn dodger,” ancient bacon, hominy and sor- 
ghum molasses, black coffee, without the super 
fluous trimming of either creamor sugar. 

Long years afterward, after the close of 
the “Great Rebellion,” while sitting by the camp 
fire at a soldiers’ reunion, an old veteran declared 
that in this very house, prepared by the same 
artist, he once drank coffee which by practi cal 
experiment was proved to be strong enough to 
bear up a grindstone. 

“Well, Major,” said the host, “how did it 
go over to Sumnerville.^ ” 

“Oh, we are even with the Abolitionists for 
that affair at Purgatory Creek, and perhaps old 
Brown will not be so keen, to take advantage of 
unarmed men again as he was at Silver Creek. 


130 


We hardly left enough alive over there to 
bury the dead, but we lost some of our bravest 
and most useful men.” 

“Hi-yi-ho! they fit, did they?” 

“No, it was the result of an explosion.” 

“Explosion! the devil you say. Now I’ve 
hearn of powder exploden, ile exploden, and 
was on a steamboat onct when the biler busted, 
but I’ll be gol darned if this aint the fust time I 
ever hearn of men bustin. You must be tryin’ 
to run a gag on me. Major.” 

“I am telling what actually took place. 
We lost some men by an explosion of powder, 
which had been stored in one of the buildings. 
The brand by which it was ignited was beyond 
doubt thrown purposely among the powder kegs, 
and we are not entirely without a clue to the 
guilty party.” 

“Yes, yes. I’m tumblin’ to your racket, now; 
you mean the men was blowed up by powder 
kegs bustin’? Hi-yi-oh!” 

The repast was finished without further con- 
versation on the subject of the war, and Joshua 
Mason, for such was the name by which the host 
was known, invited his guests out to enjoy the 
morning air in the shade of the trees that stood 
around this squatter mansion. 

On the ground, beneath the trees, three or 


31 


four gaunt, “long-eared,” half fed hounds were 
sleeping off the fatigue of the chase during the 
past night. 

The trunks of the trees were profusely orna- 
mented with the skins of the “coon,” skunk, wolf, 
wild cat, and several other species of the smaller 
animals by which that section was inhabited. 

The guests were soon seated in the cool 
shade of the trees and having been liberally sup- 
plied with “long green terbacker” from the 
“backer ])ouch” of the host, were ere long tinc- 
turing the morning air with nauseating clouds of 
smoke. 

To complete the morning program, one of 
the heirs of the house of Mason, brought out a 
red earthen jug filled with the rarest quality of 
“kill-at-forty-rods” for which the border was so 
eminently distinguished, and placed it at the dis- 
posal of the knights arrant. 

The jug was accompanied by a large gourd 
which was filled with the inspiring nectar and 
passed from one to another until all restraint 
had vanished and the melow spirited borderers 
became extraordinarily communicative. 

“Well, Squire Mason, how are the people 
in your neighborhood getting along.? Are you 
steadfast in the glorious cause that led you to 
Kansas.? I have been informed that a good many 


132 


families from Missouri have settled in this vicin- 
ity. How do they all get along.^ Do our peo- 
ple prosper.?” 

“Only tolable like, Major; some on us has 
hard tuslin with the ager. 

“Thar air me and my boys as has been down 
with chills off an’ on ever since we ariv’ in these 
diggins. We’ve jus’ ’et quinine by the spoonful 
and drunk whisky by the jug full, but the ager’ 
sticks to uS like sin. 

“Some of the squatters on the upper end of 
Catfish Bottom is so took down with the fever 
and ag er’ that they look like the yaller side of 
sin, but they are going to tough hit out. 

“The Bottom -may be sort o’ sickly durin’ 
the fall, but no better kentry fer raisin terbacker, 
hogs, and other truck ever lay out doors. 

“Jes the kentry fer a man ter make a riz 
in. 

“In this kentry, you can grow hogs fer your 
meat, sorghum fer your ’lasses, ’backer fer your 
chawin’ and smokin’, corn fer your bread and 
whisky, and can rase a little hell whenever you 
feel like it. 

“O, we’uns of Catfish Bottom has come to 
stay. You fellers down to Calhoun may do the 
fightin’ when it comes right down to dost pints, 
but don’t you fergit it, we’uns up here in the 


133 


Bottom is hell on the vote. 

“When the fightin’ is to be did, you folks 
may go it alone, but when there’s votin’ wanted, 
just stand back, an give Catfish Bottom a chance 
to spread her wings and sail in.” 

“You did well at the last election. Squire, and 
the people of the South are proud of Catfish Bot- 
tom. 

“A few more such precincts and the politi- 
cal complexion of the future state would be easily 
determined.” 

“That’s what it would,” said the squatter 
chief of Catfish Bottom. 

“Thar be only sixty families in the Bottom, 
but we give a majority of some’rs in the riz of 
five hundred. 

“Thar’ ’haint no half way doin’s among us 
catfishers. 

“We all come here to riz corn and ’backer, 
and vote agin’ the Abolitionists, and we’re a 
goin’ to jes’ turn ourselves loose.” 

After spending a few hours imbibing the 
hospitality of the border mansion, “ Major” 
Spilkins and his comrades mounted their horses 
and rode away toward Calhoun. 


(Bl^apter ^11, 

Our narrative leads us back to the forest 
where Anna Kaniman and her rescuer were last 
seen. Words can not describe the mingled sen- 
sations and emotions that rapidly coursed 
through that young lady’s mind and heart as she 
gradually became conscious of the real embar- 
rassment of her situation. 

Gratitude, fear, and feminine modesty all 
combined to render her position extremely 
delicate. 

She was not ungrateful and knew that the 
act of her deliverer had been as generous as it 
was brave and daring, but to her he was a total 
stranger and despite her efforts and resolutions 
to place herself under his guidance and protec- 
tion, she involun^arily shuddered at the very 
thought of this strange association. 

“Well gal,” exclaimed the borderer after a 
few moments silence succeeding the terrific ex- 
plosion at the village, “you can’t stay here, and 
there is no tellin’ what will yet happen if you 


135 


stay around here any longer There is a place of 
safety not far from here — at least not far, accor- 
din’ to how we reckon the length of a trail on the 
frontier, a place of safety — don’t know — but yes, 
under the sarcumstances. The place is no more 
than five miles distant from here and on the very 
line that leads to the village of the Delawares 
where you say your father has gone. Now, if 
you feel like walkin’ that way, believe me, you 
shall be treated as well if not better than if you 
was the parson himself, and the good man shall 
see his darter before tomorry night.” 

“lam helpless,” replied the girl, “and must 
trust myself to your protection: I will go with 
you.” 

“I understand it, gal, I understand it all; 
you feel skittish on account of the strange pes- 
sition in which you find yourself. Yes, I see 
through it. Many is the ambush that I’ve help- 
ed to plan for the inimy on this border, but afore 
it shall be said that Jerry Stibbins was short 
comen in his dealen with women he will haf to 
fergit that he was missed by the best woman 
that overlived. Yes, yes, in war we sometimes 
do deeds that are not for others to know, but in 
things of this natur a man must be plain and 
open in his dealen.” 

Without further conversation the borderer 


136 


slowly led the way and Miss Kammon followed 
him from the forest to the edge of the prairie. 

The travelers pursued their way through the 
glades that led from the forest, over rolling prai- 
ries, and finally entered a thicket that fringed 
the border of another wood. 

Overcome by fatigue and the anxiety that 
naturally arose from her embarrassing surround- 
ings, Miss Kamman was almost dispairing of pro- 
ceeding farther when her energies were revived 
by an unlooked for occurrence. 

The glade in which she and her companion 
now found themselves, although it opened direct- 
ly into the timber, was densely covered with 
grass, which in places towered above their 
heads. 

While pushing their way through the tan- 
gled meshes their ears were greeted by a sudden 
outburst of terrific sounds which sent a deadly 
sensation to Anna’s heart, and for a few moments 
seemed to disconcert the borderer’s faculties. The 
sounds which were wierd and mournful at first 
gradually swelled into a tumultuous clamor. 

From distant hills came responses to dis- 
mal cries, and as the sounds swelled up from the 
valley and were echoed from hill to hill, the en- 
tire domain seemed alive with yelling demons. 

The terrified girl, forgetting her exhausted 


137 


condition, drew close to her companion as a yell 
of more than ordinary ferocity went up from the 
tangled labarynth in which they were standing. 

“The varmints are gittin’ pretty saSsy in 
these diggins,” exclaimed the borderer as he 
turned his face toward the spot from whence the 
last sound had come; “they be reglar Buffalo 
wolves, and their bein’ so numerous is' a sure 
sign that an Injun camp is not far off. 

“These creeters live most of their time 
among the buffalo, but ’taint nooncommon thing 
for a passel of ’em to foller the Injuns and skulk 
around their camps for months after the summer 
hunt. 

“Beats all how a wolf and an Injun takes to 
each other. 

“A white man’s cabin is the best hint that 
you can give a wolf, that it is time for him to 
move his camp, but a whole regiment of the 
howlen’ vermin will hang around an Injun vil- 
lage without the slightest fear, and I may say 
without the slightest danger, for there seems to 
be some understanding a’tween the creeters that 
causes ’em to look on each other as inhabitants 
who have equal rights.” 

During this conversation the travelers had 
moved forward across the glade to the edge of 
the wood. 


Not unfrequently was the young lady star- 
tled as a dark object would spring up and brush 
by them toward the prairie. 

Overcome by the journey and excitement 
through which she had passed during the nighty 
Anna sank to the ground unconscious of the 
wilderness around her. 

When she awoke to consciousness again, 
she found herself in the midst of strange sur- 
roundings. The sunlight was streaming through 
an aperture into the apartment where she was 
apparently alone. 

A glance at the objects around told her that 
she was in a place inhabited by a human being. 

On either side rose massive walls of solid 
tock, and the slightly arched roof above was of 
the same material. The entrance to this temple 
of nature’s own masonry was partly obstructed 
by a huge bolder which most probably some 
mighty upheaval had hurled from the brow of an 
adjacent hill, and there was also an artificial wall 
extending from the bowlder to the side of the 
cavern. The place was completely enclosed ex- 
cept a narrow avenue which had been left for a 
door way . 

The floor of this strange apartment was 
covered with leaves and grass. On the walls 
were hanging a variety of garments made chiefly 


139 


from the skins of beasts. There was also a 
large collection of botanical specimens of almost 
every variety peculiar to that locality. 

The couch upon which Anna had been 
placed was composed of buffalo skins which had 
been spread over a pile of grass, and was by no 
means an uncomfortable bed. 

The girl stared wildly around her. No liv- 
ing object was visible. 

She had remained bewildered by the mys- 
tery of her surroundings for several minutes when 
a shadow fell across the doorway and she heard 
footsteps outside. 

Her eyes were turned toward the door and 
encountered an object that appeared so gro- 
tesque and wild that it sent a thrill of terror to 
her heart. 

At. first she was scarcely able to distinguish 
whether it was monster, beast, or man. 

A second and calm inspection proved that it 
belonged to the latter class, although wholly un- 
like any specimen of.the proud race our young 
adventuress had ever beheld before. 

The figure, which perhaps exceeded six feet 
in height, was bowed by the many burdens of 
many years. The strange object was an old man 
whose thin white hair falling upon his shoulders, 
long beard bleached by the irrevocable decrees 


40 


of time, and wrinkled features placed his age be- 
yond the possible range of conjecture. 

He was dressed in a garb as strikingly gro- 
tesque as his own form and features. 

A portion of his apparal was of cloth fash- 
ioned after a pattern antiquated by at least forty 
years. The other portions were composed of 
dressed skins and differed but little from the 
garments worn by many of the scouts and pio- 
neers of the western border. 

Fora few moments Anna Kamman sat re- 
garding this strange apparation with a manifest 
astonishment and anxiety that surpassed even 
the terror of her recent prior adventure. 

The old man seated himself upon a shelving 
rock on the side of the cave opposite from the 
one where his guest was sitting and after a brief 
silence, addressed her as follows : “Welcome, 
daughter, welcome to the lowly habitation of one 
humblest of the children of earth. For eight 
and fifty years have I dwelt in this place, never 
before has it been graced by female loveliness. 

“Yes, Yes,” said the old man, musingly, “I 
remember it well, though four and sixty years 
have passed since then. 

“Bouleversement. ” 

“It was a bloody day.” 

“Enfans perdus — Dieu defend le droit.” 


Then suddenly remembering his guest, the 
old man turned to Anna with a smile and said, 
“pardon, fair lady, the musings of an old man. 

^‘Thoughts, unbidden, will crowd them- 
selves into the mind, and often when the obliga- 
tions of hospitality demand the attention.” 

The bewildered girl continued to stare at 
her strange host without trusting herself to 
speak. 

The stories of magic and enchantment vvith 
which she had ever fed her fancy rushed 
vividly through her mind. 

Was she indeed in the den of the mysteri- 
ous “old man” of the forest.^ 

There was something, however, in the coun- 
tenance of this aged inhabitant of the border 
that gave her assurance that no violence was 
medicated, and after regaining her composure, 
she was encouraged to speak as follows: “Where 
am I and how came I here.^” 

“You are in the abode of a friend, and at 
a late hour last night were carried here by a 
young man, who saved you from the flames of 
the ill-fated village. The youth has departed 
with tidings to your parent. A generous deed 
was his, and as brave as it was generous.” 

Anna was assured by this intelligence that- 
she need apprehend no violence from her host. 


142 


There was also that about the old man which 
bore convincing testimony that he was harmless. 

There was little left of what the man must 
once have been, except his dark eyes which 
beaming with intelligence, seemed to retain all 
the fire and animation possible to any stage of 
life, and apparently proof against the laws of 
time, formed a strange contrast to the decayed 
features around them. 

The lineaments of his face .were strongly 
marked. 

Resolution, boldness, force of character, and 
firmness were artistically blended with honesty, 
truth, and simplicity, by all the marks that act 
as an index to the human character. 

Learning that it would be several hours be- 
fore her father could possibly reach her, Anna 
commenced to exercise her feminine curiosity 
by asking numerous questions concerning the 
past history of the mysterious person who had 
in such a peculiar manner become her host. 

“Why, ’’said the girl, “do you dwell in this 
country alone.^ Have you not friends with 
whom you could spend your declining years.? 

“Your language and manners tell me that 
you have once led a different life. Have you 
no family or kindred.? 

“Are there none to bless the life of so 


143 


worthy a man as I am assured you must be?” 

An expression of melancholy passed over 
the old man’s face; he bowed his head and for a 
short time sat with his wrinkled face hidden 
beneath the folds of his garment. 

Fearing that she had given him pain, Anna 
had commenced to apologize, when he raised 
his face and interrupted her. 

“It was a bloody day. 

“Four and sixty years have passed since 
then, but I remember it as vividly as if it had 
been but yesterday. 

“But the duties of a host must not be for- 
gotten. ” 

The old man placed a rude looking table 
near Miss Kamman, and after placing before her 
such food as the cavern larder contained, in- 
vited her to eat. 

“The repast is not such as will be likely to 
invite the appetite of a gentle lady, but that it 
it the best I have is the only apology that I can 
offer. ” 

The fare consisted of game, venison, dried 
buffalo, and other varieties. In addition to this 
there was fruit of several kinds, fresh and lus- 
cious, and corn bread which had been baked by 
some one who was by no means unskilled in the 
art of cookery. 


144 


More to please her entertainer than from in- 
linaton to dine, Anna partook of the provisions 
much to the old man’s satisfaction. 

After the repast had been finished and the 
furniture re-adjusted, the host seated himself 
and resumed the conversation. 

“It is a sad story,” said the man, “but it is 
sacred to one who has lived far beyond the time 
allotted to mortals. 

“It was four and sixty years ago,” — this was 
spoken in an abstracted, half musing manner. 

“Fair lady, you ask me if I have no family. 

I had once, but it was four and sixty years ago. 

“Far away across the blue sea^ among the 
vine-clad hills of sunny France there is a grave 
that holds all that earth has ever given me to 
bind the heart to this shore of mortality. 

Three score and ten years ago, the feeble 
old man before you was a hale and vigorous 
youth, and by his side along the sunlit paths that 
traced the winding shores of the Garonne, walked 
a young and happy maiden. Her face was as 
radiant as a spring morning when the earth 
is garlanded with flowers and a million 
dew drops are glittering like jewels in the 
light of the rising sun; her laughing eyes spark- 
led with joy and hope; her voice was like the 
soft notes of the silver lute, and her merry laugh 


45 


like the gentle, pleasing harmony of the rippling 
brook; and she tripped along by my side as 
lightly as a fairy in the bower of the gods. 

“It was our golden morning and we were in 
love with life. We walked through the orange 
groves on the banks of the winding river; stood 
on the seashore and listened to the voices of the 
billows as they were wafted in mournful undula- 
tions from the reefs; climbed to the towering pin- 
nacles amid the magnificent beauty of the Pyre- 
nees; danced in the moonlight on the shores of 
the gulf, and wondered if there was a world 
more joyous and gay than this one. 

“I need not tell you that the lovely girl be- 
came my wife. We lived in the halls where my 
ancestors had dwelt since the days of the mighty 
Charlemange. 

“Except myself, not a living representative 
of my ancient family remained on earth. Fath- 
er and mother had both died before I was old 
enough to remember them. A kinsman in Eng- 
land with whom I had lived since I had been 
left an orphan, died, and being thus severed from 
all the ties cf family relationship, there was 
nothing left for me but to return to my ances- 
tral halls, which I did two years before my mar- 
riage with the lovely creature of whom you 
have just been told. 


146 


“For six years of unclouded happiness we 
lived in a beautiful village on the banks of the 
Garronne. 

“Two children, one a bright, laughing, mer- 
ry boy, and the other a gentle, winesome little 
girl, came to increase the many blessings of our 
home. 

“Young and prosperous, with an ample for- 
tune, a lineage as proud as any of the nobler 
of France, a loving ’vife and two sweet children, 
my life was the realization of a day dream. 
When my mind, as it often does, dwells on these 
happy days, I sometimes think that it was only 
a beautiful dream and myself somnambulist. 

“At the time of which I speak, France was 
passing through the throes of a mighty revolu- 
tion. 

“The Jacobins, fiercer and more blood-thirs- 
ty than the catamounts of these hills, were hurl- 
ing the thunderbolts of their vengeance against 
the aristocracy, and all other royal institutions 
of the commonwealth. 

“The whole nation was in a commotion that 
resembled in its fury the mighty storm the 
sweeps the ocean. 

“If I had been a private citizen and only half 
as rich as I was, my happiness would have gone 
undisturbed, amid the domestic tranquility of 
home. 


147 


“My ancestors had been connected with the 
affairs of state from time immemmorial, and I, 
having inherited their titles, was forced to 
spend a portion of my time at Paris. 

“I was a member of the Assembly when the 
insurrectionists were clamoring for the head of 
Louis XVI, and his youg wife, Marie Antoi- 
nette. 

“Though a Republican, my veins differed 
from Danton and his fierce Jacobin allies. 

“I aided the great Lafayette in his noble ef- 
forts to protect the king and queen against the 
violence meditated by the revolutionists. 

“I was branded by the Jacobins as an aristo- 
crat, and secret plans were made against my 
life. 

“One night I was summoned to a private 
conference between some of the friends of 
France. I kissed my wife and sleeping babes 
and hastened to obey the summons. 

“It was the same night that the Revolution- 
ists had set apart for my death. 

“When I returned to my house, a mob was 
howling fiercely around the door, and a great 
tumult came from within. ‘Followed by a half 
dozen of the National Guards I rushed in. A 
scene met my eyes that I never shall forget. 
With drawn dagger a villian stood menacing 


148 


my wife with death unless she revealed my 
wherabouts. ‘Where,’ said the bloody wretch, 

‘ is he who has conspired with the enemies of 
France.’ Undaunted by this monstrous savage, 
my noble, devoted wife refused to answer. 

“ ‘Here I am,’ I shouted, struggling to cut my 
way through the raging mob. It was too late. 
The villian buried his dagger to the very heft in 
the bosom of my innocent darling, and at the 
same instant one stroke of my sword severed 
the monster’s head from his body. 

“I gathered my dying wife in my arms, but 
with a sweet smile of recognition she instantly 
expired. 

“The Guards drove the cowardly rabble into 
the streets where ensued one of the bloodiest 
scenes enacted in all that frightful tragedy call- 
ed the Revolution. 

“My babes! Where were they.^ Sleeping 
in their cradle.^ No — Trodden upon and suffo- 
cated by the infuriated human demons. They 
were found in their mother’s apartment, dead. 

‘•The blow was greater than I could bear. I 
took my precious dead to the ancestral estates 
in Southern France, 'and buried them in one 
coffin, the mother holding a babe on either arm, 
where the gay plumaged birds of the southland 
chant their morning hymns, and the gentle river 


149 


follows its winding path to the Sea. 

“Although I have wandered far since then, 
my heart has been in that grave for four and six- 
ty years. 

“After the sad rites of burial had been com- 
pleted, I withdrew from the world to give vent 
to my bitter reflections. In the anguish of my 
heart, I blasphemed God and cursed my fellow 
creatures. 

“My heart grew desperately bitter against 
mankind and I scorned the idea that there ex- 
isted such a being as that God who was said to 
be the author of the tragedy of life. 

“My reasonings were that if there existed 
a being of all wisdom and power who permitted 
such dark experiences as had so recently befal- 
len me, he must be a dark, cruel and frightful 
monster. 

“In my happy days, no such dismal thoughts 
had ever entered my mind which had ever rec- 
ognized in the world around me the imprints of 
Divinity; but the clouds of adversity which had 
intervened had obscured all the nobler emotions 
of the soul. 

“I left my native country to return no more, 
and having journeyed in many distant lands, at 
last sought an asylum among the beasts of the 
American desert, and eight and fifty years ago 


150 


took up my abode in these hills and for 
ten years did I live the life of a secluded her- 
mit, without beholding the face of a fellow crea- 
ture of my own color. 

“During a greater portion of that time I con- 
tinued to brood over the dark associations of 
human life, to despise mankind, and to scorn the 
idea of a ruling Providence. By the hallowed 
memory of these I had at last softened my enmi- 
ty toward the human race; and no one can in 
solitude commune with nature for ten years 
without tracing in its hidden mysteries the im- 
prints of the Eternal. 

“Men may err and blindly cling to some 
senseless dogma in their efforts to assert the 
sovereignty of God ; records may be defaced; 
books may mislead the mind, for historians 
sometimes record what never happened; but ev- 
ery page of Nature’s great volume is rich in 
golden imagery and revelations of Him who ig 
ever felt but never seen. 

“For forty years have I felt his presence i n 
these wilds. 

“In the sparkling ripples of the murmuring 
brook, in the opening flowers of springtime, in 
the low voice of sprouting grass and bursting 
buds, in the distant, deep toned thunder along 
the horizon, in the tempests that have howled 


through these hills, and in the fiery flash of the 
lightning that crashes to the heart of the quiv- 
ering oak, have I traced the handwriting of Di- 
vinity. 

“From the dismal gloom of misanthropy my 
mind was gradually led by the softening influ- 
ence of Nature, and I was ere long enabled to 
look upon the dark excrescences of life with a 
calmer and more philosophic gaze, and now be- 
hind many of the clouds that overhang this 
mortal world, I behold the golden light ot a 
better existence. 

“It is not unreasonable to hope, to believe, 
to feel that from the saddest depths of life will 
spring up flowers of hope which will bloom in 
immortal beauty in the deathless realms of eter- 
nity. 

“No, no,” continued the old man, “my life 
has not been so sad in this solitude as one 
might suppose. 

“I have made friends with the red man of 
these wilds, and truer friends man never had 
than they have been to me. 

“The buffalo hunter and the frontier trader 
have eaten and slept in my humble abode when 
ever they have visited these parts. For forty 
years have I kept pace with the doings of the 
busy world through the newspapers supplied by 


152 


the officers of the forts, 

“I have times innumerable been called to a • 
seat in the councils of the native warriors, both 
in peace and in war, and when the frontier was 
thrice threatened by an Indian outbreak, it was 
myself who was commissioned to go among the 
turbulent tribes and negotiate a treaty of peace. 
No, I have not been alone. Sweet ministering 
angels, they have been near me by day and by 
night.” 

“Of whom do you speak,” said Anna, notic- 
ing that her host had again fallen into one of his 
musings. 

“Men may call it fancy, but, fair maiden, I 
have reasons for what I have said. Philosophers 
say that the dead come not back to earth, but 
the wisdom of the wise is not without alloy. 

’’Angelic spirits! Sweet cherubs! 

’’Four and sixty years a*go! 

“Ah, yes, I have seen them and felt their 
presence, within these very walls. 

“Sweet flowers, although rudely plucked 
from me, it was only to be transblanted within 
the bowers of paradise.” 

We must ask the reader to take leave of 
Anna and her newly made friend, and with us 
visit another scene. 


©I]<3ipter ^U'>. 

“Good morning, Parton, I understand that 
you are one of the servants of the great God who 
fears not public sentiment, and that you are one 
of the pulpit’s avowed champions of human lib- 
erty.” 

“Good morning, stranger friend, who you 
are I know not, but you seem to be in possession 
of the key of confidence, for in these perilous 
times men seldom advocate a cause in which they 
are not sincere.” 

“And,” said the first speaker, “many, very 
many there are who refuse to advocate openly 
that which they feel and know to be right. 

“Fear is the greatest obstacle in the high- 
way of civilization. My name is Brown; I come 
asking a favor of you.” 

“ ‘Ask and ye shall recieve,’ if it is in my 
power to grant your request, and happy day for 
me if I can be of service to the Champion of hu- 
man liberty in Kansas. 

“He who led Israel through the waves of the 






Sea is about to come forth in His glory and ma- 
gesty and power, and deliver this sin cursed land 
from the yoke of the oppressor. 

“Tell me what I can do to aid you, and I am 
at your service.” 

“You have,” said Brown, “doubtless heard 
of the capture of some slaves from the Pro-Slav- 
ery camp on Silver Creek; we have them in our 
posession, and must make some arrangement for 
their sojourn in this land of strife until an op- 
portunity is presented for their safe exodus to a 
land of freedom beyond the line that marks the 
northern limits of their native land. 

“It is sad to contemplate! Human beings 
are forced to seek for liberty in a foreign land; 
while the chains of slavery is the only inherit- 
ance bequeathed by that country that should be 
homS.” 

“I am, myself, in a land of strangers, but 
He whose advent upon earth was a proclamation 
of glad tidings and peace among men, would be 
displeased with me, should I turn these outcasts 
away. No, whatever you ask, if in my power, 
it shall be granted.” 

The first speaker, in the preceeding dia- 
logue, was John Brown ; the Second speaker 
was Rev. Mr. Kamman. As was intimated in the 
preceeding chapter, Mr. Kamman had gone 


155 


to the Delaware Agency to assume his duties as 
missionary to the Delawares. 

One week had elapsed since the missionary 
had entered upon his new fi^ld of labor when 
the Rifle chieftan visited him, asking an asylum 
for the fugitive slaves. 

Mr. Kamman had learned from Jerry Stib- 
bins the situation of his daughter, and had on 
the same day conducted her to the Mission, 
where they were soon established in their new 
home. 

The Delaware Mission was beautifully situ- 
ated in the picturesque valley of the Pawpaw, 
where the wooded hills form a harmonious back- 
ground to the vale through which the stream 
glided in its journey to the Kaw. 

There had been other missionaries among 
the Delawares, and Mr Kamman was spared 
many of the embarrassments that confront the 
first missionary to an uncivilized people. 

There were in all about a score of houses 
scattered irregularly about in the valley. 

The buildings were made of unhewn log s, 
and although covered with bark and earth, they 
were an improvement on the wigwam which 
had formed the habitation of the red man, from 
time immemorial in the history of his race. 

But to induce the red man to build a house, 


156 

and induce him to live in it, were different tasks.' 

He entered heartily into the work of prepar- 
ing for himself a habitation, built after the fash- 
ion of the white men of the frontier, but two or 
three days residence sufficed for “Poor Lo.” 

He pitched beside the domicile of civiliza- 
tion the wigwam of his fathers, and when Mr. 
Kamman came to take charge of the mission, 
he found that much of his predecessors’ work 
had been “love’s labor lost,” as the unsophisti- 
cated child of the West wds living in his wig- 
wam, and, true to his traditional instincts, had 
converted his former dwelling into a stable for 
his pony. 

Between these log habitations and the Paw- 
paw lay the principal town of the Delawares. 

It consisted of some two hundred lodges, 
among which, standing in the center of the 
group, was the lodge of Open Heart, first chief 
over the scanty remnant of what was once the 
mighty Lenni Lenape of the sea shore. Near 
the lodge of Open Heart, were the habitations 
of several inferior chiefs, their rank being indi- 
cated by the size and pretensions of their sev- 
eral lodges. 

Just opposite the lodge of the great chief of 
the Lenape, apart from the habitations of the 
Delawares, stood the lodge of Wompawara, who 


157 


with his son Honipuss had refused to follow his 
tribe, the Kanzas, to their new reservation on 
the Cottonwood, but lingered on the banks of 
his native river resolved to find a grave in that 
land over which his ancestors had held domin- 
ion from time immemorial. 

Wom-pa-wa-ra had won great distinction in 
the numerous wars that the Kanzas had waged 
against the Pawnees and Osages, and had for 
years stood first in his tribe, but on account of 
his determined opposition to the various treaties 
negotiated between the Government and the 
Kanzas, he had lost some of his former influence 
among a majority of his people upon whom the 
demoralizing influence of the traders rum had 
told with frightful effect. 

Wam-pa-wa-ra had for years been an inti- 
mate friend and ally of Open Heart, and when 
the Kaws moved to the Cottonwood, he was 
prevailed upon to rear his lodge in the town of 
the Delawares, who occupied a portion of the an- 
cient domains of the Kanzas. 

Many of the old Kanzas warriors, still loyal 
to their once renowned chief, followed him to 
the village of the Delawares, and pitched their 
lodges around his as they had been accustomed 
to do in the days of his glory, before the down- 
fall of the Kanzas. 


II 


58 


It was to these as well as to the Delawares 
that Mr. Kamman had come to minister. 

Near the other log buildings stood a com- 
modious structure made of hewn logs. It was 
double, one division serving as a home for the 
missionary, and the other answers the purpose 
of chapel and school room. 

Here the dusky child of nature was initiated 
in the secrets of the mysterious “A. B. C.” of 
the white man, and on Sundays listened (when 
he could be prevailed upon to attend ') to ser- 
mons on gospel themes, and had about as little 
comprehension of their meaning as the ordinary 
village lawyer has of the laws of which he is a 
professed advocate, or as the local politician has 
of politics. 

Back of the Missionary’s building were sev- 
eral small farms which had been opened up in 
the various attempts of the missionaries to con- 
duct an industrial school in conjunction with 
the mission work. 

Before leaving the mission the Rifle chief 
had made arrangements for the sojourn of the 
negros at that place. 

There were severg.! advantages to be se- 
cured from this disposal of the fugitives. The 
mission was situated at a point advantagous to 
the long contemplated Northern march, and al- 


159 


though not far from Calhoun, the slaves, if kept 
in seclusion, would be in less danger of falling 
into the power of the Missourians than they 
would be if they remained in the territory south 
of the Kaw, where the emissaries of the blue 
lodges would be most likely to search for them. 

Above the Delaware village, among the 
hills, in a deep, wooded ravine, stood an old di- 
lapidated hut, which had been inhabited by an 
old French trader some thirty years prior to the 
events recorded in our narrative. 

There was a tradition among the Kanzas 
that this white man had been murdered and rob- 
bed by the trappers from the “Muddy River,” 
and that during the nights when the “moon was 
round,” his spirit was seen walking about in the 
vicinity of the hut, uttering melancholy cries, 
and imploring the Great Spirit for vengeance up- 
on his murderers. 

Fear and superstitious reverence for the 
habitations of the dead had kept the Indians from 
intruding on what they deemed the domains of 
the departed spirit, and although not far from 
the Delaware village, “Dead Man’s Hollow” had 
not often been visited by a native Indian since 
the death of its inhabitant. 

The place had been visited occasionally by 
white hunters, who came to hunt among the 


i6o 

hills of the Kanzas, and the hut had been sever- 
al times repaired by these temporary sojourners. 

To this lonely habitation the Rifle chieftain 
conducted his sable friends, for a time at 
least, to elude the vigilance of the Missourians. 

There were ten of them, ranging in age all 
the way from twenty to forty years. They were 
all men of robust appearance, and reflected no 
little credit upon the judgement of their former 
masters as to what kind of slaves were best adapt- 
ed to the hardships and burdens of frontier life 
in Kansas. 

On the day following the arrival of the fu- 
gitives at Dead Man’s Hollow, the missionary 
visited his new neighbors. After the usual 
compliments between the white men, the Rifle 
Chief motioned to his companions to come for- 
ward for an introduction to their new friend, 
and was not a little surprised to see one of the 
ebony sons of the South approach the mission- 
ary, and, with his face immersed in grins, bow- 
ing courteously while he addressed him as fol- 
lows : “Heaben and yarth ! Fo de Lawd dat gibs 
us bref and de hoe cake ! If dar aint Massa Kam- 
manny as shu as de moon hangs in de sky ! Shu 
as you bo’n, and no mistake on hit.” 

“Good morning, Pompey,” said Mr. Kam- 
man, extending his his hand. “I never expect- 


i6i 


ed to meet you again. We meet under circum- 
stances a little akin to those under which we 
parted.” 

“Been,” said Pompey, “nigh on to tree years 
since I seed you all, but now when I least ’spect- 
ed to meet wid yer, right here yo’ stands as if 
yer had drapped from de clouds ! Shu as de 
Lawd, Ise jes as soon t’inked of meetin’ wid de 
ghost of John de baptus as meetin’ ob yo’ in dis 
Ian’ whar de birds am afeerd to sing above a 
whisper. 

“Beats de wo’ld dat sech t’ings ’ll happen. 
Har yo’ is, and har I is, both on us an’ no mis- 
susstake. Geewhillicum! Ise so mi’ty proud ter 
see yer dat Ise dun ’bout kerflummixed! 

“Fust we met ’way down in Car’liner and huh 
we’re met ag’in just furnenst the jumpin’ off 
place of the wo’ld. 

“De berry fact ob hit am jes as strange as de 
fact dat we eber was bo’n or dat we haint some- 
body else. 

“Law sakes, Massa Brown, but hit was a 
skeery time down to Car’liner when Massa Kam- 
manny was dar. Mi’ty ticklish times for a 
white man as would try ter teach cull’ed folks 
from de books, an’ dey was ’spechly sot ag’in’ de 
Aberlishionneys, as dey called Massa Kamman- 
ny.” 

“Well, Pompey, I am glad to meet you 


i 62 


again,” said the missionary, ‘‘and hope that you 
will soon see better times. When did you leave 
your old home in the South.?” 

“Fo de Lawd ! Ise got no mo’ home ner a 
wild goose. Ise dun gone ’zolbed wid Marse 
Spilkins and am gwine to Canerdy for my health ! 
Yah ! yah ! yah ! ” 

“But, Pompey, have you no fears of falling 
into the hands of your former master .? ” 

“Ise not er gwine ter be tuk by Marse Spil- 
kins. I’se er goin’ to take my foot in my hand 
an’ light out for de promis’ Ian’ jes as soon as de 
Calhouners ’ll gib me a chance. I’se b’on wid a 
light fut, I is, an’ dar ’ll jist be some ob de tab- 
es’ runnin’ tow’d de Canerdy line some ob dese 
days yer eber hearn on. Dey tell dat Marse 
Spilkins was so skeered de night his camp was 
tuk dat he look vvuss ner de debble afo’ daylight. 
W’at you t’ink on dat.? Wonder if he ’members 
how he uster make Pompey wuk in the cotting 
fields ob Car’liner ! ' 

“Mos’ ’markable t’ing in de wo’ld. Dar was 
Cap’n Brown an’ his men cornin’ up an’ dar was 
Marse Spilkins jes so wuss skeered dat he look 
paler’n a ghost, while dar was Pompey an’ his 
fren’s who was tuk and treated as if dey was 
sum an’ mo’ too. 

“Wait till we all git to de promis’ Ian’ ob 


i63 

Canerdy an’ you will be bearin’ suthen drap ! 
Eh ? ” 

“Where were you going when you were 
taken by Captain Brown?” 

“Where war I gwine ! Might as well ax a 
wild pigeon whar it’s gwine as to talk sich to 
Pompey. Don’t know whar. I was gwine, but I 
know whar I aint er gwine — not gwine back to 
Marse Spilkins. 

“ ’Fo’ ril be tuk back to him, dar’ll be a dead 
nigga, shuh. Bettah be dead an’ free den to be 
alibe an’ be somebody else.” 

‘W^here did you leave your family, Pom- 

pey ?” 

“Oh, des down to ole Car’liner. I ’specs 
some day ter git ’em outen dar, but how to do 
hit only de Lawd kin tell. 

“Dars de mudder an’ chil’en- — two mi’ty fine 
younguns dey be, too — des a cornin’ out ob dar 
afore dis chile dies. 

“De ole woman is a gwine ter pack up de 
chil’en some time an‘ run fer de norf, but if dey 
is cotched an’ took back Pse gwine to wu’k an’ 
buy dere freedom or die er tryin’.” 

After charging the fugitives to avoid the 
Indians, and remain secreted in their place of 
concealment, the Rifle chieftain took leave of 
them and departed, and the missionary returned 
to the Mission. 


©l^apter 

One of the first opportunities afforded Mr. 
Kamman to become acquainted with the people 
among whom he had come to proclaim the Gos- 
pel of peace was at the “Great Council,” held at 
the village of the Delawares, on the week follow- 
ing his arrival among them. 

The reader will remember that the Konzas, 
or Kanzas, were the lawful owners of a terri- 
tory now embraced in a large portion of the state 
of Kansas. Long years before the Spanish De 
Soto was pushing his way through the perils of 
the American wilderness, as winding his course 
along the banks of the Mississippi ; long years 
before the Jesuit Marquette had pursued his 
journey from the Wisconsin to the Arkansas; 
long years before Coronado had penetrated 
the interior of the American continent, the 
Kanzas were undisputed masters of that do- 
main in which now the only relic of their for- 
mer greatness is found in a name. 

Braver than the Osages, better skilled in all 


165 

the arts of war than either the Pawnees or the 
Padoncas, the Kanzas had remained for genera- 
tions unmolested in the lands to which they had 
attached their claim. 

In the arts of moral progress, so far as it is 
possible for the child of nature to elevate himself, 
the Kanzas were beyond controversy, superior 
to any tribe on the western plains. Their proper- 
ty continued undiminished until in the early part 
of the present century they were wrecked by 
the white man’s rum, for the downfall of that 
once great tribe may be dated from the time 
that the white traders commenced their visits to 
the villages of the Kanzas. 

In the whirlpool of excitement that pre- 
vailed in the new territory, settlements had been 
made in various, portions of the different Indian 
reservations. The Delawares and Kickapoos 
had suffered most from these intrusions. Locat- 
ed adjacent to Calhoun, these tribes had been 
forcibly dispossessed of portions of their lawful 
reservations. Although the Missourians of the 
Calhoun colony were chiefly responsible for 
these intrusions, the Indians regarded all white 
settlers with distrust, and unable to distinguish 
between the two elements then contending for 
supremacy in Kansas, the hostility of the Indians 
threatened serious consequences to all parties. 


Foreseeing the danger of the settlers if the 
mistake under which the Indians were laboring 
was not rectified, the “old man of the cave,” — 
Anna Kamman’s newly found friend, advised a 
“Council.” On the appointed day, the principal 
men of the tribe, headed by Kenekuk, their 
chief and prophet, wended their way to the vil- 
lage of the Delawares to meet the white men 
around the “council fire.” Several Free State 
Settlers who had been appointed by their friends 
followed Captain Brown to the scene of the pro- 
posed deliberations. 

Open Heart received the strangers with all 
the historic dignity that Indian chiefs have from 
time immemorial welcomed embassadors to their 
council fires. 

The fire was built in the principal lodge of 
the Delawares, and assembled around it were 
the Kickapoos, the whitemen, the Delaware 
chiefs, and Wampawara and several of the 
Kanzas warriors. The fire occupied the center, 
and the members of the Council formed a circle 
extending around the utmost extension of the 
lodge. 

Not a syllable was spoken while the mystic 
pipe was passing around the circle. 

When that time-honored preliminary was 
ended, the Council sat in slience for some time, 


the white men awaiting the action of the Indians, 
who, familiar with such scenes from their earliest 
recollection, awaited the conduct of the senior 
chiefs. 

At last. Open Heart beckoned to the aged 
inhabitant of the cave, whose years seemed best 
to qualify him to open the deliberations of the 
Council. Seeing the suggestion of Open Heart 
seconded in signs of approbation manifested by 
the other chiefs, the old man arose and address- 
ed the Council as follows : 

“Children of the one great Manitou — Dela- 
wares, Kickapoos and Kanzas : — My years are 
many. For more than fifty winters have I so- 
journed in this land. The Delaware and Kick- 
apoo have both eaten and slept in my lodge, 
and the Kanza has been my brother for more 
than forty summers. 

“Too many years have I seen to wish to 
meddle in the affairs of men, but when I beheld 
the Delawares looKing with dark frowns upon 
the people of the chief of the Long Rifles, I said 
that I would speak to the warriors of Open 
Heart that they no longer follow a false trail. 

“The friends and people of the Long Rifle 
chief have not knowingly trespassed on either 
Delaware or Kickapoo lands, but they have 
come into this land by permission of the ‘Great 


68 


Father,’ who said to them: ‘Go possess the 
land.’ 

“That the men whose village is where the 
Winding Serpent hides in the ‘Muddy River’ have 
pitched their tents on the land that the ‘Great 
Father’ had given to the Kickapoos is something 
that we cannot deny; and that they have also 
built their lodges in the domains of the Dela- 
wares is a truth; but between these and the peo- 
ple of the Long Rifle there is war and not peace. 

“The men who to-day sit in council with 
the Kickapoos and Delawares have come to say 
that they will live in peace with all men and 
take no land save that which is their own. 

“What nations have been wiser than the 
Lenapes or the Kickapoos.? None. What peo- 
ple have loved justice more.? 

“They know what is right, what is pleasing 
to the Great Manitou who made all men equal. 

“Would my brothers blame all alike because 
some white men are unjust.? Would the sons of 
Kenekuk or the children of the Lenape make 
the innocent answer for the sins of the guilty.? 

“No! no! I need not tell you that justice is 
a guiding star to both the followers of the Proph- 
et and the men of Lenni Lenape. 

“Among the hills of the Kanzas have I lived 
far many years, and during all my sojourn among 


169 

them, my heart has been set on peace and not 
strife. 

“In this council sits the last of the great 
Kanzas chiefs. 

“When Wampawara speaks the Kickapoos 
and the Lenapes will know why they have been 
invited to meet the white men in council.” 

The old man resumed his seat in the coun- 
cil; and, being one of the principal parties in the 
council and also a guest at the Delaware village, 
Kenekuk, tall, straight, self-possessed and dig- 
nified in mien, arose and addressed the council, 
and his address was rendered by the interpreter 
as follows : 

“The sun rises in the East and sets in the 
West, and smiles alike upon the white nan and 
the Indian. For his pale children, the Great 
Spirit made the fields; and to the palefaces He 
taught the use of the plow, hoe and scythe. 
But the red men of the woods at first were not 
so. Once the Kickapoos lived on the banks of 
the Wabash in a distant land beyond the 
‘Great River,’ and were then as numerous as the 
leaves on the trees. We were rulers over the 
land. Our villages were spread in countless 
numbers all over the lands in which our fathers 
had hunted for unnumbered generations. We 
were then mightier than the Miamas or the Cher- 


I/O 


okees. Our warriors were men, brave in war, 
true in peace, and successful in the chase. 

“In times of peace we sat in our lodges and 
listened to the words of our wise men. 

“They were words of wisdom. 

“Our prophets told of the mighty deeds of 
the Kickapoos in war, and their greatness in the 
arts of peace. 

“In those days there was plenty, and to 
spare, in the lodges of the Kickapoos. There 
was a lodge,' and food for the stranger who came 
to the village. When was h'e ever turned away.^ 
Never. 

“Both the white man and the stranger Indi- 
an was welcome in the village of the Kicka- 
poos. 

“The sons of the Great Father of the white 
man came to our lodges and offered us money 
for our lands. This we took and, leaving the 
land of our fathers, moved toward the setting 
Sun to the land which the Great Sachem of the 
white man had given us in exchange for the 
home of our fathers. We have continued to 
move slowly toward the sunset, and now have 
scarcely room for our lodges in the land which 
was once the home and hunting grounds of the 
Kanzas. 

“For many years have the Kickapoos aban- 


doned the chase for the pursuits of the white 
man. 

“We have worn the garments of the white 
man, and have lain down the tomahawk and 
taken up the hoe. 

“We. bought our lands along the ‘Muddy 
River’ of the embassadors of the Great Father 
at the chief village of the whites ; and when the 
white strangers commenced pitching their tents 
on the lawful domains of our people, the Kick- 
apoos said : ‘The white man has come to rob us 
of our lawful inheritance, and we will dig up the 
hatchet so long buried on the trail between the 
lodge of the white man and the village of the 
Kickapoos.’ But Kenekuk said: ‘No, we will 
meet the Lone Eagle and his brothers around 
the Council fire, and save bloody deeds, for the 
moon that shines on the village of the Kickapoos 
shines on the lodges of the white men, and upon 
it there should be no blood.’ The Kickapoos 
have heard the words of Lone Eagle, and they 
are good. We have erred. The friends of the 
Long Rifle are just men. With them the Ki^k- 
apoos will live in peace. It is well.” 

The prophet sat down in the Council circle. 

As Brown was expected to address the 
Council, he arose and reiterated what the old 
man of the cave had said regarding the mistake 


of the Indians as to the trespassers upon their 
lands. 

Open Heart, now deeming- it the proper 
time for him to speak, arose and addressed the 
assembly in the language of the Delawares, 
which the interpreter translated thus : 

“The Delawares are like the clouds that the 
winds have driven from the rising to the setting 
of the sun.” 

“Once we dwelt near the sun rising and saw 
the sun when he first came forth from the waters 
of the salt sea. 

“The Lenapes were a mighty nation. Then 
we were Sachems in the land of our fathers. 

“We hunted and fished in our native lands, 
and there were none to dispute our rights, no, 
none. The Lenni Lenapes were the fathers of 
men. Our ancestors came from the rising sun, 
and were the first dwellers upon the shores of 
the sea. The white men came to the villages 
of the Delaware, and the Lenape said wel- 
come. 

“We met the white fathers at the Council 
fire, and who has ever said that the truth dwells 
not in the hearts of the Delawares.^ 

“We made treaties with the white man, and 
the Lenape never lied. We made promises and 
kept them. But one morning the Sun arose 


173 


covered with a cloud, and the Lenni Lenapes 
were lost in the darkness. 

“We were driven from our hunting grounds 
on the shores and hills of our native river, and 
went away to return no more. The winds 
have driven us toward the sunset, and although 
the face of a Delaware should be turned to the 
East, we have been drifting westward. 

“The glory of the Lenape has departed. 

“The sun that shines upon Open Heart and 
his brothers is not the sun that shone upon our 
fathers when they dwelt on the shores of the 
salt sea. The sun of the Delawares is still be- 
hind a cloud. 

“The Delawares have listened to the words 
of Lone Eagle. 

“They have found a place in the ears of the 
Lenapes. 

“The mist has been driven from our eyes. 

“We see our error. The warriors of the 
Long Rifle are just. 

“There is peace between us.” 

After several chiefs, of both the Kickapoo 
and Delav’are nations, had spoken in behalf of a 
friendly intercourse between the whites and 
their respective tribes, Wampawara arose and 
spoke to the assembly in the language of the 
Kanzas: 


74 


“The Lone Eagle has told the warriors of 
my brothers why they have been asked to meet 
at the council fires of the Delawares. 

“The words of the Eagle are truths and not 
lies. Why should he lie.^ In a few more win- 
ters he will be called to stand before the Great 
Spirit, in the white man’s heaven. 

“Should a man appear in the presence of the 
Manitou with a lie in his mouth.^ No! no! From 
such the Manitou would hide his face. 

“When the great Eagle is called he will go 
like a man. 

“Delawares and Kickapoos, the people of 
the Long Rifle are not trespassers on your lands. 
Wampawara has eyes and has seen the men 
whose lodges arc built on the lands of the 
Delawares. 

“Those men belong to the village on the 
Muddy River. 

“The chief of the Long Rifles has come to 
council for peace. He is a mighty warrior, and 
the Delawares and Kickapoos love to council 
with men. 

“The Long Rifle is just. His deeds are 
justice and his words are truth. 

“But why should Wampawara speak in the 
council of warriors.^ 

“Wampawara has lived through many win- 


175 


ters and is now on the path of life where the 
storms are wild and the spring comes not. He 
has seen a mighty nation perish from the earth 
as it were in a day. 

“Once these prairies were the home of a 
mighty people. 

“Their lodges were as many as there are 
stars. They were men, and they were happy 
and prosperous in the land which had been the 
home of their fathers always. 

“The streams gave them fish and they 
chased the bison over the hunting grounds. 
Corn grew near their lodges, and there was plen- 
ty in the wigwam. In the villages were wives 
and children. 

“The warriors of this mighty nation loved 
their wives and children and there were smiles 
and not frowns. 

“The young warriors wooed the maidens of 
his people and with them the days were all 
spring. There were no clouds. The warriors 
were successful in the chase, the squaws roasted 
the meat, boiled the hominy, and many papooses 
played around the wigwams. 

“The Great Spirit had taught the nation 
how to bend the bow, throw the spear, and hurl 
the tomahawk. 

“The land was full of game and the chase 


176 

yielded much food. 

“Only when their hunting grounds were in- 
vaded did these people go to war, and then they 
sent the trembling Osage back to his village, 
and chased the fierce Pawnee to the banks of 
his own river. 

“They were great. No other nation of the 
plain was like them. There was no strife. The 
fruits of the chase were distributed according to 
the needs of the nation and all said ‘it is well.’ 

“Wampawara need not tell you that these 
people were the Kanzas. That you know. 

“Then was Wampawara young and strong. 
His voice was heard among the warriors around 
the council fire of his nation. But now he has 
no nation. Where are the Kanzas.^ They have 
fallen like a withered branch from the tree of 
life. 

“Their war songs which once struck terror 
to the hearts of the Pawnees and Padoncas, are 
no longer heard, and their hunting grounds are 
now the cornfields of the white man. 

“The winter of the Kanzas is long and cold. 
The sun has hidden behind a cloud. The night 
will be long and dark. When the white man 
came, Wampawara said to the wise chiefs: ‘Let 
us not sell the lands of our fathers,’ but the wise 
men of the nation said, ‘Yes. We will sell our 


177 


lands and become rich.’ When the white man 
came with firewater, Wampawara said, ‘Touch it 
not. It comes from the spring of the Dark 
Spirit. It burns the Kanzas’ brain and makes 
wise men fools.’ The chiefs said: ‘It is pleasant 
to the mouth, and makes men wise.’ 

“Their words prevailed. We sold our land 
and bought the firewater of the white man. 

“Our wise men became fools. The firewat- 
er made the Kanza a vagabond. 

“ He became lazy and no longer loved the 
chase. 

“Hunger made him steal. 

“He learned to lie. The Great Spirit hid 
his face and smiled no more. 

‘ ‘Summer will never come again to the Kan- 
zas. 

“The days will all be winter until the last 
of the once mighty nation has vanished from 
the earth. 

“Yet Wampawara has never forgotten that 
he is a Kanza, and that his ancestors were mas- 
ters of the plains for generations. In my dreams 
have I seen the Great Spirit and talked with 
him. 

“When the moon has hung low in the skies, 
after the buffalo has lain down, the antelope is. 
slum.bering upon the plain, and the spirits of the 


178 


dead are walking upon the earth, Wampawara 
has dreamed. He has been young again. The 
villages of the Kanzas has he seen, and the' 
smoke from a multitude of wigwams has ascend- 
ed from the banks of his native river. He has 
again seen the bison thicker on the river of the 
Kanzas than the willows on the islands of the 
Muddy River and has joined in the chase. 

’’Wampawara has in his journeys with the 
Great Spirit fought among the warriors of his 
nation and has again heard the death-song of 
the Pawnee Loup, and witnessd the tears and 
heard the groans of the Iowa at the torture. 

“ A Kanza was I born, a Kanza have I 
lived, and a Kanza will I die, and when the mas- 
ter of life calls me, I will go and join my tribe 
in the land beyond the sunset. 

“When Wampawara and his brothers, (point- 
ing to the aged Kanza warriors around him), 
have been summoned to appear before the Great 
Spirit, who will be left to watch by the graves of 
our fathers.? Even now the Great Father of the 
white man has said the brothers of Wampawara 
must join their tribe at the village of the Kaws 
on the banks of the Cottonwood. Wampawara 
will never go. He will remain near the bones 
of his fathers ; there he has lived, and there he 
will die. 


179 


“When these aged Kanzas have departed 
from the village of the Delawares, none will be 
left to watch b/ the graves of the Sachems, ex- 
cept Wampawara and his son Honipuss, the last 
of a race of chiefs.” 

After the aged Kanza had concluded his 
address, each chief was made the recipient of 
a number of presents, the distribution having 
been studiously made by the white men in 
accordance with the rank and influence of the 
warriors. 

After vows of friendship had been exchang- 
ed the Council disassembled, and all visitors were 
invited to share the.hospitality of the Delawares^ 
which was displayed in the form of a general 
feast. 


The reader will remember that on the morn- 
ing after the battle of Purgatory Creek, Kingsley 
and the Hoosier Sovereign were last seen pre- 
paring to start for Liberty where a Free-State 
meeting was to convene. Liberty was situated 
south of the Kaw. 

On arriving at the place appointed for Free- 
State consultation, the travelers were surpried 
to find the town so different from the one that 
fame had pictured upon the imagination. The 
village consisted of twenty-five or thirty houses, 
scattered irregularly along the edge of the wood 
that fringed the banks of the creek. 

The meeting was one of utmost importance 
to the Free-State men of that locality, as it had 
been painfully evident that nothing but stubborn 
resistance would counteract the unrelenting ven- 
geance of the Pro-Slavery party. 

The assembly was strongly characteristic of 
the time and corresponding events. 

At an early hour on the day appointed, the 


i8i 


crowd began to assemble. 

An attempt to describe the impression 
made on the mind of a stranger would prove 
fruitless. Every body carried fire-arms, rifles, 
pistols, knives, and in fact all the weapons known 
in early western warfare, were represented in 
that convention. 

The elements of disturbance were soon vis- 
ble in the throng that filled the streets. The 
Missourians from the “River Towns” were “out 
in goodly numbers,” cursing the Abolitionists, 
and swearing they would shoot the first one who 
should attempt a speech that day. 

In the confusion of the tumult it was hard 
to determine the relative strength of the parties. 

The Calhoun Rangers, led by the redoubt- 
able knight of the Pro-Slavery town, Col. Sol 
Higgins, appeared early upon the scene. 

The time appointed for the deliberations 
to commence had arrived. Kingsley had about 
come to the conclusion that the menacing threats 
of the Missourians had intimidated the Free. 
State men, and that the meeting would necessar- 
ily be postponed, when a stranger stepped up- 
on a rude platform which had been erected in 
front of a large open log house, and by one ges- 
ture of his uplifted hand silenced the multitude, 
and riveted every eye upon himself. He was tall 


i 82 


and strongly built, and his face expressed a spir- 
it just suited to the emergency. Curiosity qui- 
eted the uproar and gave him the attention of 
the heterogeneous assembly. 

“My name,” said the stranger, “is James 
Montgomery ; I came to Kansas to enjoy the 
liberties and free privileges of a free citizen. 

“I came here today to participate in a 
Free-State convention, and by the help of Al- 
mighty God and the trusty rifles of my fellow 
citizens, I intend to enjoy that right. They 
tell us we must not hold this meeting. Just as 
though the Missourians were proprietors of the 
territory, and had gone into partnership with 
God in running the universe ! They . tell us 
that if we will disband and go away, we will 
not be molested. Generous proposal ! 

“We do not court bloodshed, but when it 
comes to a choice between cowardice and man- 
hood, we are willing to be molested. 

“The spirit of this meeting is protection and 
liberty, but if the Missourians think that we are 
going to sacrafice manhood and right to coward- 
ice and evil, we will prove to them that they 
have been following a fantastic delusion. Only 
a few minutes ago I heard a ruffianly Missourian 
swear that he would put daylight through the 
first man who attempted to speak from this plat- 


183 


form. I defy the cowardly villain to make an 
attempt to execute his dastardly threat.” 

The call for the meeting had been published 
in the “Liberty Herald,” and after its reading, 
the convention proceeded to organize. Mont- 
gomery was unanimously chosen chairman. 

He informed the audience again that the 
Free-State men were not advocates of war, and 
that they would resort to it only in self-protec- 
tion; that it was their purpose, however, to re- 
turn violence for violence. 

The bold daring of the speaker in facing 
the turbulent mob, his commanding form, and 
perhaps forcible eloquence gave him for a few 
moments the almost respectful attention of the 
crowd. 

Other speakers were called to the platform 
and listened to with but slight interruption ex- 
cept an occasional jeer from the Missourians, who 
at intervals manifested their hostility in this 
manner. 

As the speakers one by one gave their ex- 
perience as residents of the Territory, and ad- 
vised an aggressive movement for mutual protec- 
tion, manifestations of violence were plainly yis- 
ible among the Pro-Slavery minions. 

Mr. Kingsley had remained a silent specta- 
tor during the deliberations of the convention, 


184 


and was a little surprised when the chairman 
announced that Mr. Skidmore, of Indiana, wished 
to make a few remarks. Cries of “Skidmore,^’ 
“Skidmore,” came from the audience. 

The gentleman from Bitter Creek arose and 
addresed a “few remarks” as follows : 

“You see, gentlemen. I’m from Indianny, and 
never made but one reg’lar sot speech in all my 
bornd days. 

“That was at the Bitter Creek Literary siety, 
when me an’ Hi Wasson debated on “Which was 
the mammy of a chicken, the hen that hatched 
and rared it, or the hen that laid the egg.” 

“Wall, I was on the hatchen side, an’ when 
the question was giv’ over to a jestis of the peace 
and a school master, two of the smartest men 
on Bitter Creek, and after they spent about a 
half an hour in lucidaten the pints, the decision 
was giv’ in agin me, and I was so sort o’ broke 
up over losen that I have never made any big 
speeches in public since. 

“Mr. Cheerman, I’m no chin musicer, but 
when it comes to that kind of stuff, there’s one 
in this congregation as can knock the socks off 
of anything this side of no-where. 

“Mr. Cheerman, I move we hear from Cap. 
Kinsgley.” 

Mr. Kingsley was called for and he res- 
ponded to the call. 


85 


There was not a little surprise manifested 
when this boyish looking figure arose in the 
audience, addressed the Chair, and walked de- 
liberately upon the platform. 

Young Kingsley had already received hon- 
orable mention in the “Freeman’s Vanguard,” in 
its editorial on the battle of Purgatory Creek, 
and was consequently not entirely unknown to 
fame in the territory. 

During his short practice at the bar in his 
native state, Mr. K. had won quite an extended 
local reputation as an orator, and his reputation 
was by no means diminished by this effort. 

He called attention to the attitude of Mis- 
souri and southern states toward Kansas, as was 
shown in the territorial election. 

The speaker, in scathing terms, denounced 
the disorderly conduct of the Missourians on that 
day, and, in words of irony, spoke of the brag- 
gadocio and imagined chivalry of the South. 

As the speech progressed, the Missourians 
at different times darted looks of defiance at the 
speaker, and soon commenced to manifest un- 
mistakable signs of violence. 

Suddenly several pistols were fired almost 
simultaneously, and Kingsley staggered and fell 
to the ground. 

Almost instantly the scene was changed 


from comparative quiet into a raging tumult. 

Shots were fired at random. Men swore, 
struck with whatever weapons they could secure, 
pushed, crowded, and forced their way through 
the throng that had massed around the platform. 

In the confusion, Montgomery and Skid- 
more had succeeded in conveying Kingsley to 
the interior of the building, and had soon dis- 
covered that, although he had been severely 
stunned, he had only received a glancing shot 
across the temple, from the effects of which he 
was rapidly returning to consciousness. 

“Compose yourself,” said the dauntless 
Montgomery, “I will leave you in charge of your 
friend, while I go out to see what the boys are 
doing, for if I mistake not there will be some 
fighting to do if this melee keeps up.” 

“Leave him with me. Captain, and if the 
Calhouners come in after him they will have to 
tote a big Hoosier out too.” 

Montgo.mery left the house and entered the 
tumult outside. 

The conflict without was raging wildly. 
The Missourians had received fresh accessions 
from Calhoun, and even the voting community 
of Catfish Bottom had sent representations to 
the scene of disturbance. 

The opposing elements had become sepa- 


187 


rated, and under Montgomery’s direction the 
Free State men retired within the house, it being 
evident that they were unable to cope in open 
field with such overwhelmingly superior num- 
bers. 

Once within their citadel they were much 
better qualified to return the leaden compliments 
that their assailants showered upon them. 

An almost continuous fire poured forth from 
the building, and from behind houses, fences, 
and every object that afforded protection for an 
assailant, the messengers of death sped on their 
destructive errands, whizzing, whistling, and 
shrieking like so many demons eager to visit 
vengeance upon the victims of their wrath. 

As night approached, the firing on the out- 
side grew even more furious. The Missourians 
had completely surrounded the building and had 
thus cut off every avenue of escape. 

The besieged had suffered but little. The 
heavy fogs of the building were proof against 
the deadly missiles of the enemy, and, although 
a leaden shower was hailed upon the citadel, 
and the bullets crashed through the roof, shiv- 
ered the door, tore through the crevices and bored 
into the logs, by close precaution, those within 
were comparatively unharmed. 

Yet the situation was embarassing. With- 


i88 


out food or water, and no possible hope of dis- 
patching a messenger for succor, the outlook 
was desperate. 

At last night spread her sable mantle upon 
the earth, and with its approach the firing ceased. 
All was quiet. Not one living form could be 
seen around the scene so recently an arena of 
strife. The besieged held themselves in readi- 
ness for an anticipated attack. The hours glided 
sluggishly along, but the village still remained 
in unbroken silence. 

A consultation was held in the fort of the 
the besieged, which resulted in a determination 
to charge the besiegers and gain the shelter of 
the woods. 

Accordingly the door was thrown open and 
headed by the intrepid Montgomery, the Free 
State men marched out into the open air. 

They had scarcely formed, preparatory to 
the charge, when sounds of retreating feet broke 
the stillness of the night, echoed through the 
hills, and soon quiet reigned supremely through- 
out the village and its surroundings. 

Montgomery withdrew his men to the edge 
of the woods and unmolested awaited the dawn- 
ing of day. 

At last when the dull gray streaks of early 
dawn gave way to the rays of the rising sun, 


i89 

/ 

men were sent out to investigate surroundings.’ 

No traces of the enemy could be found. 
Like the historic Arab, they had quietly stolen 
away. 

The unaccountable dispersion of the Mis- 
sourians was a riddle that no one could solve. . 

The citizens of the town, who had not been 
engaged in the conflict, had heard it rumored 
during the course of the night that a large com- 
pany of riflemen, led by Brown, had been seen 
approaching the scene of battle, and this was the 
only explanation that could be given. 

The citizens had heard this rumor talked of 
among the Missourians a short time before their 
sudden exit from the village. 

No one knew anything more. 

Who started the report.^ 

As the Free-State men had met for consul- 
tation and not to organize, they deemed it best 
to disband and join the different companies to . 
which a majority of them belonged. 

Kingsley and the gentleman from Bitter 
Creek were accompanied by Montgomery on 
their return to the rendezvous of John Brown. 

While passing down the trail leading from 
Liberty, they encountered convincing evidences 
that dissimilar elements were at work, busily 
engaged in solving the social and political prob- 
es 


lems of the commonwealth. 

At one place, two Free-State men were 
found hanging on a tree in front of the house in 
which they had lived. Near the road, at anoth- 
er point, two Pro-Slavery men were laying near 
the trail, dead, a rifle ball having passed through 
the brain of each. 

Who did it? Ask the birds, or wait until 
the opening of the great book of human destiny. 


©l]apter /K.VI- 

On the day that the anti-slavery men dis- 
persed at Liberty, several of their number lin- 
gered in the village, discussing the recent events 
and the general phases of the struggle. 

The excitement still ran high. 

No one seemed able to fathom the mystery 
connected with the sudden exit of the Pro-Slav- 
ery party. The excitement was increased by 
the arrival of several of the Free-State party of 
the previous night, bringing with them as a pris- 
oner, Jerry Stibbins. 

Apparently but little disposed to avoid meet- 
ing the Free-State men, Stibbins had allowed a 
company of them to come upon him near the 
place where the Free-State men had met their 
death, as was mentioned in a previous chapter. 

The borderer was instantly surrounded, and 
accused of being an accessory to the death of 
the victims, and taken back to Liberty for trial 
according to the custom of the territory. 

When the party reached the village with 


92 


their prisoner, he was recognized as the notori- 
ous Pro-Slavery scout, and speedily they organ- 
ized a border “court” to try him. 

The tribunal -was soon found. The post- 
master was unanimously chosen to act as “Judge,” 
and two of the most sparsely qualified citizens of 
the place to appear as attorneys — one to prose- 
cute and the other to defend. 

The “court” repaired to an old building 
which had been alternately used as dwelling and 
stable, as circumstances demanded. 

In this hall of justice the prisoner was re- 
quired to face “His Honor,” and answer to the 
charges for which he was arraigned. 

The attorney for the prosecution opened the 
case by charging the defendant with complicity 
in the murder of the Free-State men near whom 
he was arrested. 

“What says the criminal at the bar.? Guilty 
or not guilty.?” Demanded “His Honor.” 

“Not guilty,” said the prisoner, “an’ jedge, 
if you would be a leetle more careful about yer 
remarks yer might gain more friends among 
honest people. Never have I taken the life of a 
human creeter, ’cept it be in lawful war, and as 
to my murderin’ Free-State men, I’ve many rea- 
sons to keep me from sich as that. 

“Howsomever, I was found near the mur- 


193 


dered men, and am willin’ to abide a trial. 

“Jedge, if yer would jest say pris’ner instid 
of criminal at the bar, I’d be much obleeeed to 
yer.” 

The trial went on, witnesses were called to 
the stand to testify. 

The attorneys harangued the jury and re- 
vealed most exquisitely what they did not know. 

The case was finally submitted to the jury 
with instructions from “His Honor” to find the 
prisoner guilty, as he had failed to prove his 
innocence. 

The jury, after deliberating a few minutes, 
returned a verdict of “guilty.” The prisoner 
was ordered to stand before the “court,” to give 
reasons why sentence should not be pronounced 
upon him. 

The borderer arose and replied: 

“I could make statements that would cl’ar 
me from the suspicion of bein’ a murderer of 
them Free-State men. I’ll not do it. 

“There be them lives in this kentry whose 
word would free me from any of the charges that 
Free-Staters have brung agin’ me. The tirne fer 
me to speak has not arriv’. 

“I can not blame you men fer what you 
have did. 

“Sarcumstances are agin’ me, but murder I 
did not do. 


194 


“As to your bangin’ me, I’m not afeerd of 
that. My time has not arriv’. I’ll not go yet.” 

The “Judge” ordered the prisoner to stand 
for his sentence, which was as follows: 

“You, Jerry Stibbins, bein’ found guilty of 
murder in the first degree, I order that you be 
given dinner and liquor at one o’clock, and 
swing by the neck at four, from one of the limbs 
of yander oak, so help you God.” 

“I’ll take the dinner and the liquor, but as 
for the swingin’, you may excuse me. 

“Many onsartin scrimmages have I taken 
part in, and I’ve always come out of ’em un- 
harmed. In this affair I trust to Providence and 
perhaps to some friends as I could name.” 

The prisoner was detained in the building 
where the trial had taken place, to await the 
hour of execution. 

During the interval between the trial and 
the hour set for the hanging, undisguised anxie- 
ty prevailed in the crowd that thronged the vil- 
lage, and when the appointed hour arrived, the 
prisoner was led to the edge of the timber, where 
stood a large oak which had been selected for a 
“hang post.” 

The crowd had swelled gradually during 
the day, until it almost equaled in magnitude 
the one of the previous night. The report of 


195 


the capture of the famous scout spread rapidly 
in the Free-State settlements, and so great was 
his reputation for bold daring, and so conflicting 
the rumors concerning his real character, that 
the settlers came from many parts to witness 
the execution. 

Among the many characters that figured on 
the border during the war, Jerry Stibbins had ' 
been the most peculiar of them all. He had 
gained an unrivaled reputation as a Pro-Slavery 
scout, and at the same time, certain Pro-Slavery 
men had been hired and pledged to take his life. 

It was a well established fact that Stibbins 
accompanied the expedition against Sumnerville, 
but the Pro-Slavery men had charged him with 
the responsibility of their disaster at that place. 

There might have been dissenting voices in 
tne assembled multitude, but the general senti- 
ment was in favor of the sentence. 

A rope was fastened around the prisoner’s 
neck, and attached to an overhanging branch 
above his head. 

The prisoner was asked if he had any- 
thing to say, or if he desired to confess his guilt. 

“I have nothing to say,” said the prisoner, 
‘cept that I am not guilty, and that you will not 
hang me on this tree.” 

The prisoner was placed upon a box, the 


196 


rope was drawn securely tight around his neck, 
and the hangman was in the act of removing the 
box, from beneath, when a scene, not advertis- 
ed on the program, demanded the attention o^ 
the audience. 

Two half naked forms darted with meteoric 
swiftness through the crowd, to the prisoner, 
and one of them seized the hangman and threw 
him violently to the earth, while the other cut 
the rope that bound the prisoner’s hands and 
severed the one that was attached to his neck. 

Two tomahawks and two glittering knives 
instantly flashed in the sunlight, and two pairs 
of eyes darted warnings that were easily inter- 
preted. 

As if moved by magic, the crowd fell back, 
and the recent prisoner and his rescuers sprang 
into the adjacent bushes and were soon beyond 
the danger of pursuit. 

After the crowd had recovered from its 
first shock, several parties started in pursuit, but 
were cautious to keep at a safe distance in the 
rear until the fugitives had reached a place 
where their horses had been left, when the pur- 
suit was rendered hopeless. 

The persons who brought about this pecu- 
liar reprieve were Honipuss and Chingneymoo. 

From a thicket close at hand they had 


197 

watched every detail of the proceedings, and de- 
termined upon the last moment as the most fit- 
ting time to execute their work, knowing that 
the attention of the crowd would be at that 
time closely engaged. 


On the day following the mysterious exit 
of Jerry Stibbins from the guards at Liberty, he 
visited the missionary at the village of the Del- 
awares. 

It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Kam- 
man welcomed his guest to the hospitality of the 
mission. 

“Welcome,” said the preacher, “to the hum- 
ble abode of a missionary. A lifetime would 
not suffice to repay the debt of gratitude I owe 
to the brave and generous rescuer of my child. 

“In behalf of Miss Kamman let me extend 
to you a double welcome to our home.” 

“Parson,” the borderer replied, “when a 
man acts as duty pints out the way, toward a 
feller creeter in advarsity, he should not feel 
proud or boastful of his deeds. 

“I hope your darter is well. ’Twas a long 
and skeery journey for one unused to the border 
and ’specially for one so delicate.” 

“My daughter is well, and will be happy to 


welcome her deliverer from the gates of death.” 

“There you go agin, Parson ; now there is 
Honipuss and Chingneymoo as rescued me from 
the guards at Liberty last night, and when I 
thought civil toward Injun friends and begin to 
thank ’em, they both stuck their fingers in their 
ears, as much as to say, ‘there’s honor and peace 
of mind enough in an honest deed, and we our- 
selves should be thankful for sich opportunities.’ ” 

“I heard this morning, Mr. Stibbins, of your 
arrest by the Free-State men, and have been 
greatly troubled and perplexed over it. I do 
not believe that one so brave and generous as 
you have proved yourself to be could be guilty 
of the crimes alleged against you.” 

“I have played my keerds pretty well, but 
somebody is a goin’ to run ag’in a sarcumstance 
afore the game is over. Jerry Stibbins may 
not be flush with trumps, but he is pretty well 
heeled with suit.” 

“Really, Mr. Stibbins, I fail to grasp your 
meaning. If you contemplate card playing 
with any one, allow me to exhort you to remem- 
ber the Scriptural admonition and shun every 
appearance of evil.” 

“Parson, you don’t seem to catch on. I 
aint a goin’ to gamble with nobody, but am play- 
in’ a game of life or death. 


200 


“I have a clear conscience before the God 
that made us. The part that I have took in this 
war has come from the teachin’ that was given 
me by my honest parents. Since the death of 
my father and mother my life has been spent 
in the siety of honest men, and their counsels 
have I followed. 

“I have sojourned with the Lone Eagle of the 
rocks, and he has advised me. Wampawara, 
the great and wise Kanza chief, has approved 
my acts. There is another whose name I will 
not mention who has said ‘well done’ when I have 
exposed the deviltry of the Pro-Slavery men. 

“Although I have had to go among the Pro- 
Slavery men as one of their number in order to 
scent their trail, I feel that the trail was one 
lawful to follow in time of war. 

“On yesterday I was condemned to death 
by a court of Free-State men, and to-day I have 
learned that the Pro-Slavery citizens of Calhoun 
have offered a reward for my head. 

“I haint got no great shakes o’ book idys, 
but I think as I know right from wrong. 

“But, Mr. Kamman, no more about my con- 
sarns. The Calhbuners have scented them nig • 
gers, and believe that you have aided Brown in 
hidin’ ’em, and they intend to come this very 
night to take you to Calhoun to try you fer 


201 


stealin’ niggers. You know that means bangin’. 

“This I learned from Honipuss who was over 
to that slave-cussed town and heard ’em talkin’. 

“He bein’ an Injun they never dreamed that 
he understood a word of their language, but, 
bless you, he understands it about as well as I 
do myself.” 

“This,” said Mr. Kamman, “is somewhat 
unfortunate, as Open Heart and his band are out 
on the Buffalo trail and the only native inhab- 
itants of the village, now, are the women and 
children, and a half score infirm old men.” 

“So I I’arned from Honipuss. The young 
Kanza has gone to carry to Brown the tidings of 
your danger, but the journey is longer than the 
time, and I’m afeerd the Captain can’t reach here 
in time to meet the Calhouners. 

“Parson, there’s but one way to escape from 
them human wolves, and that are. for you and 
your darter to go to the nest of the Lone Eagle 
where you will be safe till this storm blows over.’’ 

At this stage of the conversation the speak- 
ers were interrupted by the entrance of Miss 
Kamman who, after welcoming the borderer to 
Delaware Mission, announced supper, and the 
three retired to the room where the evening re- 
past was made ready. 

The shades of twilight had deepened into 


202 


chaotic darkness. 

Black and threatening clouds overspread 
the sky. 

The mutterings of distant thunder broke 
the stillness of the night, as its deepening tones 
reverberated along the western horizon, as 
though the chariot wheels of the storm god were 
striking the earth with a force in full harmony 
with the other omens of the gathering storm. 

The vivid lightning flashed along the heavens 
and, throwing its livid light into, the darkness of 
the coming clouds, painted upon their sable cur- 
tains a lurid scene of awful, yet magnificent 
grandeur. On came the storm in unchecked 
fury= The wind, bringing with it dust, grass, 
leaves, and other material, came sweeping down 
the valley with a force that was appalling. The 
scene grew grandly wild. The rain, following 
with equal impetuosity the course of the wind, 
fell in torrents and dashed in blinding sheets 
against the windows of the Mission, like the mad- 
dened rush of the waves of the sea. 

Having finished the evening repast, the in- 
mates of the Mission and their guest sat within 
and listened to the unabated violence of the 
tempest without. 

“It will be impossible,*’ said Mr. Kamman, 
“for those who seek to do us harm to come to- 


203 


night. We are safe at least while this storm 
lasts and soon after it ceases I expect the chief 
back to his village.” 

“You know not, Parson, the habits of men 
who sojourn on the frontier. This night, wild 
and stormy as it is, will stand but little in the 
way of men of the border when their hearts are 
set on evil.” 

The vigor of the tempest increased. 

The dashing waves crashed against the 
walls of the building with a violence that threat- 
ened to hurl it from its foundations. 

The howling, shrieking, roaring tumult of 
the wind, as it rushed on in its career of destruc- 
tion, the dashing of the watery billows against 
the windows, the vivid flashes of the forked 
lightning, as it danced along the earth and threw 
its illuminations far into the surrounding dark- 
ness, made for those in the Mission a picture of 
tremendous interest. 

For the space of two hours the storm con- 
tinued in unrestrained fury. Then the wind 
suddenly ceased blowing; the thunder rolled 
away in the distance, and comparative quiet 
reigned where confusion and disorder had so re- 
cently held sway. 

Scarcely had the roaring of the storm 
ceased, when the door of the Mission was thrown 


204 


violently open and twenty armed men rushed 
into the house. 

Mr. Kamman and the scout were both struck 
down by the invaders and bound securely before 
the slightest resistance on their part could be 
offered. Miss Kamman did not escape. Her 
hands were bound behind her back. All this 
was so quickly executed that the captives in the 
confusion could not even identify their captors. 

As soon as the prisoners had been secured 
the unknown captors, dragging their victims 
after them, moved out into the darkness and 
hastily mounted their horses which were found 
at a convenient distance. 

Anna Kamman was placed upon a horse 
with the missionary, and Mr. Stibbins, having 
been securely bound to one of his captors, was 
placed upon a horse behind him, and thus ac- 
commodated, both captors and captives rode 
rapidly away. Whither the captives were going 
they knew not. 

The elements again grew dark and threat- 
ening. The scattered clouds massed anew and 
from their darkening depths the rain poured 
forth with a violence that exceeded that of the 
previous storm. 

The travelers were forced to face the rain 
which fell in blinding sheets. Onward through 


205 


mud and water they pressed their way. All 
efforts to protect themselves from the drenching 
torrents were fruitless. Miss Kamman and her 
father, having, in the whirlpool of excitement 
that attended their capture, made only a hasty 
preparation for their journey, found it impossible 
to escape the drenching waves that rolled like 
billows in their faces, but were soon as thor- 
oughly moistened by the drifting waves as though 
they had been plunged beneath the waters of 
the ocean. 

Jerry Stibbins was the first to speak after 
the party had left the Mission. “Well,” said he, 
“I have been out in many a shower on these 
hills and prairies, but this is just a little the damp- 
est rain that I was ever in.” 

In the darkness of the night it would have 
been impossible to have journeyed amid the hills 
and ravines had it not been for the vivid illumi- 
nations that were thrown into the gloom by the 
flashes of the lightning which ran, danced, and 
darted over the earth like so many demons in 
the “dance infernal.” 

Notwithstanding the blackness of the hov- 
ering clouds, the entire arena was at tim.es lit up 
with a brightness that emulated that of mid- 
day. 

Every flash revealed a sea of water. The 

M 


206 


branches and ravines had become swollen; the 
ditches that previous storms had cut down the 
hillsides were overflowing, and it was soon 
found impossible for the travelers to proceed 
on their journey. 

Having reached a place of comparative se- 
curity from the storm they dismounted and 
sought such shelter as their retreat afforded. 
They had halted under the ledges of some huge 
recks at the base of a hill. 

The place had evidently been frequented 
at no very remote period of time. A fire was 
burning under the rocks, and the lawless captors 
and captives were soon warming their benumed 
limbs at its friendly glow. 

The captives were much perplexed. Every 
one of the captors was masked or disguised in a 
way that rendered detection impossible. 

But having reached a place of security, with- 
in the range of their own domains, these uncer- 
emonious visitors cast aside all disguise and ap- 
peared in their well known but ever dreaded 
character of “border ruffians.” 

“Well, Stibbins, you tarnek traitor, we’ve 
corailed you at last,” said the. Pro-Slavery Knight 
arrant. Bill Posey. “Never had no great 
’mount o’ faith in you, and now we have ketched 
you at your own game, a few p’ints of border 


207 


law will be good for your health.” 

“We will make him an example for trait- 
ors,” said Mr. Spilkins, who had just thrown 
aside his mask and stood before the assembly un- 
disguised. “Stibbins, you have betrayed the trust 
reposed in you, and the penalty of it you must 
pay. You have not only proven false to your 
friends, but you are charged with murder. It 
has been discovered that you threw the burning 
brand into the powder kegs at Sumnerville, and 
caused the death of some of as brave men as ev- 
er went to the presence of God. 

“You also apprised Brown of our march in- 
to Kansas, and caused that outrage on Silver 
Creek. 

“You indeed know too much, but dead men 
tell no tales. Beware, Stibbins!” 

“That I did have to perform some unpleas- 
ant duty ni admit, but it was all done to help 
in a righteous scrimmage. The Blue Lodges 
machinery to be run for the purpose of wholesale 
murder, and I’m glad I’ve had a chance to give 
’em away. 

’’But, gentlemen, Jerry Stibbins was never 
borned to be shoved off by powder or hemp. 

“When I go I calkilate to go in decent style. 

“Tell you what. I’ve scrimmaged around in a 
good many tight tussles, and have discivered 


208 


that I’m not to be killed, but will die in the reg- 
lar old fashioned way. ” 

“Stibbins,” said Posey, “you must think 

that we are a set of idiots. Do you dream 

of escape.^ Why, since we discivered that you 
did that murderin’ at Sumnerville, the Governor 
has offered a reward of five hundred dollars out 
of his own pocket for your arrest.” 

“All right,” replied the captive ex-sheriff, 
“you will hear from me again.” 

After making themselves as comfortable as’ 
circumstances would permit, the captives sat 
down by the fire to remain tilf morning. 

At the dawn of day Posey commanded his 
men to prepare to move. 

Suffering from the blow which he had re- 
ceived on the previous night, as well as from 
the dangerous exposure in the rain, Mr. Kam- 
man was wholly unable to resume the journey 
to Calhoun; whither the raiders were tending. 

The place where the party had taken ref- 
uge from the storm was situated but a short dis- 
tance from Catfish Bottom, and to the home of 
the redoubtable leader of the voting population 
the border knights wended their way, that they 
might there dispose of their wounded prisoner 
until such a time as he could be conveyed to 
Calhoun for trial. 


209 


Mr. Kamman and his daughter were accord- 
ingly consigned to the hospitality of the “Mason 
House,” while Jerry Stibbins was escorted to 
Calhoun to be tried for treason. 

We need not worry the readers patience 
with extended details of the trial. “Colonel” 
Higgins, in self-constituted authority, sat as 
Judge. The charges were treason and murder. 

The prisoner made no defense, save that he 
maintained his moral right to in any way thwart 
a bad cause. 

A decision was easily reached, and the pris- 
oner was sentenced to die on the following morn- 
ing at nine o’clock. 

Many of the citizens of Calhoun, perhaps 
eager to witness another “bangin’,” and know- 
ing the desperate daring of the prisoner, pro- 
tested against the delay, and demanded an im- 
mediate execution, but the “Col.” insisted that 
as some of the boys were out “scouting” and 
would not be in before morning it would be “a 
sarvin’ ’em shabby” to execute the prisoner be- 
or e their return . 

In deference to the pleasure of their absent 
comrades, the citizens withdrew their objections, 
and the sentence of the “Col.” prevailed. 

The borderer was led to a strongly built log 
house, and with his hands securely bound be- 


lO 

2 

hind him was left to await his doom. 

The building stood on the outer edge of th e 
town on the bank of the creek. Posey was author- 
ized to guard the prisoner, and he placed his 
men in a circle around the prison, thus destroy- 
ing all hope of escape, had it been possible for 
the condemned man to elude the vigilance of 
the guard placed at the door. 

The prisoner bound, a man thoroughly arm- 
ed in the door-way, the guards outside forming 
a formidable line around the building, and the 
well known vigilance of the sentinels made the 
prospects for escape extremely hopeless. 

The doomed man sat in his prison unmoved. 

If he felt the delicacy of his situation, none 
of the guards could detect the slightest omens 
of uneasiness. He even jested with those who 
came to talk with him. 

After the Pro-Slavery men of Calhoun had 
earned the facts about Stibbins’ infidelity to 
their cause, their hostility toward him was un- 
bounded so long as he was not in their power, 
but now that he was at their disposal, and his fu- 
ture sealed, their hatred was less intense, and 
some of them even expressed admiration for the 
undaunted manner in which the prisoner seemed 
disposed to meet death. 

The leaden fantasy of twilight soon deepen- 


21 I 


ed into the darkening shades of night. The 
guards, believing their prisoner secure, were 
soon reposing, lying carelessly on the ground. 

It was a night characteristic of the western 
plain. The wolves on the adjacent hills howled 
clamorously, the night-hawk screamed as he flew 
over the plain : the heron sent forth his shrill 
cry as he arose from a disturbed retreat in some 
marshy lake ; the loon’s weird call resounded 
along the windings of the “Muddy River,” the 
whine of the catamount echoed among the crags 
of the hills that overlooked the waters of the 
Winding Serpent, and the warnings of the 
watch dog, mingling with the disturbed elements 
of nature, added new features to that discordant 
medley in this domain of nature. 

Although innumerable stars twinkled in the 
azure depths above, a heavy darkness rested up- 
on the earth. 

Many of the guards were sleeping the un- 
disturbed sleep of security, others were lazily 
yawning and occasionally looking around in the 
sea of darkness that encompassed them. 

One of them, more vigilant than his com- 
rades, has at different times imagined that a liv- 
ing form is moving about in the darkness, 
but the idea is discarded when the apparition 
vanishes into shadow. Again the sentinel is 


212 


startled from his half sleeping, half waking rev- 
erie by a form which seems to glide by him in the 
gloom. 

He raises himself from his reclining posture, 
and with ears alert to the slightest noise, and 
eyes intently fixed, peered out into the surround- 
ing shades. Once a pair of piercing eyes seem- 
ed to glare at him in the darkness, but upon mi- 
nute inspection the supposed object appeared 
to fade into shadow. 

The sentinel resumed his former position, 
and discarding his disturbance as a sleeping fan- 
cy, soon joined his companions in the realms of 
slumber. 

A human form which had been crouching 
to the earth so closely that it had seemed to be 
a part of the shifting shadows, now partly raised 
itself and took a survey of the surroundings, 
then lowering itself it moved over cne ground as 
noiselessly as a crawling serpent, passed the 
sleeping sentinel, and crouched before the door 
of the prison where the half sleeping guard sat 
at his post. 

The dawn of morning was slowly driving the 
shadows from the eastern horizon when the 
guards sleepily arose and looked around them. 

The sentinel sat in his place in the door- 
way wit,h his gun leaning against the house. 


213 


Posey approached the prison but suddenly 
started back with an exclamation of surprise. 

His comrades hastily collected around him 
to ascertain the cause of his excitement. 

The pallid lips, swollen face, and the fixed 
and staring eyes of the sentinel told the story. 

Dark spots were visible on his throat, as 
though in the struggle of death it had been 
clutched by an iron grasp. 

The blood had flowed profusely from a 
wound in his breast and had formed a pool at 
his feet. 

There were no other marks of violence, but 
then it made no difference to the sentinel. He 
was dead. 

The guards rushed madly into the building. 
It was empty. 

The bindings that held the prisoner were 
found upon the .floor, but no further traces of 
him were to be found. The entire town was 
thrown into the utmost confusion. Scouts 
scoured the country in every direction but no 
traces of the borderer could be discovered. 

The mysterious disappearance of the pris- 
oner placed the guards in an extremely delicate 
position. Men of the border pride themselves 
on their vigilance, and public sentiment against 
a delinquent was more detrimental than it would 


214 


have been in a land of law, under similar cir- 
cumstance. 

In some way a story was circulated that 
the prisoner, had attempted to escape, had 
killed the sentinel at the door and that he was 
shot by the guards outside. 

The guards refused to talk about it, but 
the story spread rapidly, and was soon circu- 
lated throughout the Pro-Slavery towns in the 
territory. 

The Pro-Slavery papers published long and 
vigorous articles about the death of the aboli- 
tionist spy; but of the place of his burial “No 
man knoweth even unto this day.” • 

It is with feelings of regret that we bid 
adieu to this son of the border, for we feel, gen- 
tle reader, that you with us believe that he mer- 
ited better fortune. We refer not to the matter 
of his birth, but to the manner of his exit from 
this history. 


©I^apter 

After leaving the scene of disturbance at 
Liberty, Messrs. Kingsley, Skidmore and Mont- 
gomery went to a remote locality south of the 
Kaw to confer with John Brown. 

They found the old man waiting to receive 
them. 

The cabin which this strange inhabitant 
occupied was characteristic of its inmate. 

It was built of logs, between which “chinks” 
* had been interposed to hold the “daub,” as 
well as to fill the openings. 

Many of the chinks had been removed to 
admit the “Italian zephyrs,” and to furnish 
means of defense in case of attack. 

The furniture of this “western mansion” 
was in keeping with the surroundings. In one 
corner stood a rudely furnished bed. In another 
was a shelf, upon which a few dishes might be 
seen. 

A stove with some cooking utensils stood 
in the farther end of the cabin. In the center, 


2i6 


stood a heavy table upon which rested a sabre, 
a pair of pistols, and a stoutly bound and well- 
used bible. 

It was late in the evening when the travel- 
ers reached the citadel of the Rifle Chief. 

Having placed before his visitors such food 
as the larder contained, the host commenced to 
disclose to Montgomery, his plans for the moves 
that they had already agreed to make together. 

Down to the finest details connected with 
every minor movement, Brown had his plans 
studiously arranged. Every feature of the pro- 
posed campaign was closely marked out. 

“You have, I fear, more plans than you 
can execute. Captain. 

“Too much machinery never runs smoothly. 
Direct action is often retarded by too much plan- 
ning.” 

“Montgomery, you are right under ordina- 
ry circumstances, but this campaign,” said 
Brown, “must be well planned and swiftly exe- 
cuted, and — ” 

The door opened noislessly and an appari- 
tion stood in the midst of them. The gentle- 
man from Bitter Creek, with open mouth and 
eyes fairly starting from their sockets, gazed 
upon the silent visitor with an uneasiness that 
challenged description. 

The figure, which was that of a well pro- 


21 / 


portioned Indian, stood motionless in the center 
of the room. He had not spoken since his ab- 
rupt but stealthy entrance, and stood gravely 
erect, without for a moment regarding the scru- 
tinizing eyes that were fastened upon him. 

Brown was first to break the silence that 
followed the Indian’s entrance. 

“What brings Wampawara to his brother’s 
lodge at this late hour.^ Is the Kanza hungry, 
he shall be fed. Is he weary, here shall he rest 
in the lodge of his friend.” 

“The Kanzas are a people that never grow 
tired, and, although Wampawara has seen many 
winters, he is not weary and needs no rest. 

“The servant of Manitou, who has been 
among the Delawares, is now with his child a 
prisoner among the palefaces of the Muddy 
river, and Wampawara has come to tell his 
brother. The young paleface who dwells in the 
lodge of the Lone Eagle is also a prisoner, and 
condemned to die when the sun rises above the 
tree tops again.” 

“What can this mean.^ The fellow speaks 
in parables,” said Kingsley. 

“The meaning is plain enough,” Brown re- 
plied. “ The Calhoun Rangers have suspected 
the Missionary at the Delaware village of hav- 
ing been implicated in hiding these negroes. 


2i8 


and they have taken him prisoner.” 

“Tell me, Wampawara, where these wicked 
men have conveyed their prisoners.” 

“More than a journey of two suns, where 
the valleys are low, and the waters of the 
Winding Serpent repose in the bosom of the 
Muddy River, the white father and his child 
are confined in the village of the palefaces. 
There, too, have they taken the Panther to die. 
The warriors of the Muddy River strike but 
once. If the young Panther of the palefaces 
cannot be rescued, he will not die alone. Hon- 
ipuss, the last of the Kanza chiefs, is following 
hard upon their trail and if the Panther cannot 
leap through the snares, the white men will 
know that the son of Wampawara is not afraid 
of death. The blood of Kanza chiefs flows in 
the veins of my boy, and whoever knew a Kanza 
to be false to a friend. No! No! If the young 
paleface is to be called to stand before the 
Great Spirit, Honipuss will walk by his side as 
he journeys on that long, lonely trail that leads 
to the land of spirits. 

“Once when the Kanzas fought with the 
Kiowas, from the hills of the burning trees, 
Wampawara and Honipuss were bound at a 
Kiowa stake, awaiting the fire, when the sun 
should come forth from the great river. It was 


219 


the Panther that crept in among the dark war- 
riors of the Kiowa camp and cut the thongs 
that held the last of the Kanza chiefs. The 
Kanzas have not forgotten. The paleface will 
not die alone.” 

Wampawara then related the particulars of 
the capture at the Mission. A consultation was 
held and the plan of action speedily agreed 
upon. 

While Brown, Montgomery, and the chief 
were in conference, the gentleman from Bitter 
Creek and Kingsley were discussing the pros- 
pects for a new adventure. 

“I am sorry, Captain, for the Parson’s little 

gal. 

“She is just as tender as a mornin’ glory, 
and I doubt if this scrimmage don’t prove too 
much for her narves. 

“Law sakes! You just orter seen how she 
kept things movin’ down to the Mission. 

“If I had never seed another one as suited 
me better, I don’t know what would have come 
of my visit down to the Mishing. 

“But, Captain, she is jistthe sort of critter 
that the likes o’ you git gone on. 

“Pity you didn’t git a squint at her. 

“Tell you she discounts them gals in the 
yaller backed books that me and Hi Wasson 


220 


used to read about when we was young uns — less 
it was the one that was called the “Queen of 
the West,” was captered by the Injuns and res- 
cued by a young chap as was sort o’ sweet on 
her. 

“Say, how would it do for you to play the 
bravo, rescue their family, and claim the gal fer 
your pay.? Spose you try it. You can. Other 
men have did things not half so hard.” 

“Well Joe, I am inclined to infer from your 
description of the young lady, that she would, 
if secured, be a sufficient bounty to reward one 
for the dangers of the rescue; but who is she.? 
I must know the name of the maiden in distress 
before I assume the mission of a knight-errant. 

“What is the name of this missionary.?” 

“Campen, Comen, or some sort o’ name.” 

“You mean Kamman,” said Brown, who 
had turned around to address Kingsley. 

“Kamman did you say!” 

The young man sprang to his feet, while an 
ashy paleness crept over his face. 

“How long has this Mr. Kamman been in 
the territory.?” 

“Ever since the attack on Sumnerville,” the 
chief replied in broken English. 

“It was at that place,” said Brown, “that 
Jerry Stibbins rescued the missionary’s daughter 
from the flames.” 


221 


The Indian nodded, while a smile stole 
over his face, showing that in matters concern- 
ing the bravery of the young paleface he was 
deeply interested. 

“Yes, the Panther fears the flames no more 
than he fears the tomahawk of Kiowa warriors. 
The Panther is stout hearted and knows how to 
leap through the fire.” 

“That Mr. Kamman has been my friend 
from my earliest recollection.” 

“And,” said the gentleman from Bitter 
Creek, “the gal has been your, what.^ — from 
your arliest recollection. I’ve ketched on. Cap- 
tain; putten the different p’ints together I’ve 
made a diskivery.” 

After arranging their plan for future action, 
the inmates of the cabin went upon their mis- 


sion. 


©l](3kpter /K.1X. 

Our narration now leads us back to the Cap- 
tain of the Rifles, who, on the night that Wam- 
pawara warned him of the Pro-Slavery raid on 
the Delaware Mission, might have been seen 
walking along the summit of the ridge that over- 
looked the village of the Delawares. 

Millions of stars glittered in the azure man- 
tle that was spread over the earth. 

The abyssmal depths of space now seemed 
an ocean of sparkling diamonds, which glistened 
in countless myriads far, far beyond the range 
of even the human imagination. 

The traveler sat down upon the summit of 
the bluff that overlooked the wood in which the 
objects of his search were secluded. 

The western wind was blowing gently 
across the plain; the grey wolf howled clam- 
orously as he sullenly skulked _away from what 
he deemed an intrusion on his domains. 

In the valley below lay the Indian village 
in which were no signs of life save the yelp of 


.223 


the half domesticated dogs, as some animal of 
the prairie ventured too near the wigwam of the 
Delaware. 

The traveler mused deeply as he looked 
upon this scene of natures own painting. 

Many were the thoughts that flashed across 
the horizon of his mind. ■ 

“The stars, ” said he musingly, “speak of 
freedom; even the beast of the prairie protests 
against an invasion on his liberties. Yonder 
glistening stars sing of peace and gbbd Avill-— 
the song that the heavenly harpers played when 
they proclaimed the advent of the delivbrer of 
mankind. 

“The innocent bird proclaims his gratitude 
to Providence when he sings his hymns of free- 
dom. 

“The gliding water in the brook speaKs of 
freedom as it dances on in the benignant smiles 
of God’s free sunshine. 

“Only man is in bondage. 

“Only man is unhappy. 

“Slavery is contrary to the great book that 
God has printed on the face of all nature. Ah! 
it is finished! Babylon is fallen to rise no more. 
I see it in the signs of the times. I read it on 
the face of nature. I hear it in the muttering 
thunder of God’s wrath at the sins of the world. 


224 


I feel it in my heart as it is printed in letters of 
living inspiration on the face of passing events. 
It is whispered in my ears while waking and 
comes to me in the dreams of midnight. The 
Lord, God, omnipotent has heard the cry of the 
oppressed. Even the stars hold consultation, 
and I read in their movements the deliverance 
of all the children of earth. 

“Freedom! O glorious freedom! Liberty 
and peace shall henceforth be the watchword of 
human progress.” 

The wanderer, having paused for a few 
minutes, resumed his journey toward the habita- 
tion of the sable fugitives at “Dead Man’s Gulch.” 

Wishing to ascertain if the negroes had ob- 
served his previous injunction to maintain strict 
discipline and to guard against surprise. Brown 
approached the cabin very cautiously from the 
upper end of the gulch in which it was situated. 

He had advanced to within a hundred yards 
of the cabin without detecting any signs of the 
sentinel that he had ordered to be constantly 
kept in that locality. He was slowly moving 
toward the citadel of the fugitives when a dark 
looking object sprang up before him and retreat- 
ed rapidly toward the cabin. It paused, how- 
ever, turned around to face the enemy; but as 
Brown advanced it moved on nearer to the ren- 


225 


dezvous of the black men. 

At every advance of Brown, the sentinel, 
for such he conjectured it to be, moved a little 
nearer to the cabin. 

Suddenly the retreating sentinel stopped, 
and turned around to face the foe. 

“Stop dar! Stop dar! Ise got ahead on yer 
an’ be yo’ Injun, ’Zurian, ghost, or debble, you’s 
er dead critter ef yo’ come anudder step. 

“No foolen, sah, er Ise er gwine to pull de 
trigger.” 

“I surrender a? your prisoner,” said Brown. 
“Take me to your commanding officer. You 
must treat me as a prisoner of war.” 

The sentinel stood for a few moments evi- 
dently at a loss to comprehend the stranger’s 
meaning. 

“Take me to your camp,” said Brown. 
“Come, I am ready to march in with you. A 
prisoner should walk before his captor.” 

“I’ll go fust and then yo’ can come in a’ter 
me,” f^aid the sentinel. 

“A good soldier would not do that. The 
enemy would escape. 

“Look huh, Mr. Debbie, ghost, Zurian, In- 
jun, or what yo am, if its ’scapin’ yer hankerin’ 
arter jus light out an’ no one will be ertaxin’ yo 
er de road yo trabble on.” 


226 


“No,” said the prisoner, determined to 
taunt the negro still more, “I am now a prisoner 
of war, and must be brought before the command- 
ing officer.” Brown then advanced, and the sen- 
tinel retreated as many steps toward the house. 

In this manner they approached the cabin’ 

The inmates had been aroused by the con- 
fusion without, and were peeping around the cor- 
ner of the cabin when the sentinel closely follow- 
ed by Brown appeared among them. 

For a moment the utmost consternation pre- 
vailed among the fugitives, but Brown soon qui- 
eted the alarm by addressing the recent sentinel. 

“Well, Cato, I am your prisoner; show me 
your superior officer.” 

“De Lawd ob hosts! Massa Brown! I 
knowed hit was yo all de time. Ise often thunk- 
ed ‘what will happen ter a body,’ and now I ax 
what won’t happen. 

“Tell yo what, Massa, dat mi’ty skeery t’ing 
what yo do. 

“Dis ol’ boss pistol ob mine neber miss when 
she fire. 

“We’se been bearin’ some strange t’ings 
roun’ dis yar place. De bery debbil seems to be 
on de rampant. 

“We’se been heerin’ screechin’, an’ hellabe- 
luin’ eber sence we cum huh. 


22 / 


“Dis place am hanten, shuh! 

“We has been dissolved fer de wurst, and 
has had fight in de eye and run in de heel fer 
mo’ ner er weak. 

“Mos’ elude at times ter light out fer Can- 
erdy. Den, ’gin, we elude dat de Zurians would 
cotch us and bring us back to Marse Higgins, an’ 
we jus tot dat hit am bettah to stay heab wid de 
debble and de ghosts, dan to be took back to de 
slabery folks. 

“Jes when I see you, Marse Brown, I done 
gone don’t know what to do. Fustt’ink I would 
shoot an’ den make de feet cut scallops in de air 
fer de cabin, den I t’ink as I would cut de scal- 
lops widout de shootin’, but when you stopped I 
eluded if you was a ghost or a debbil you must 
be a tame one, so I jes brung you to de shanty, 
an’ huh you is Cap’n Brown. Knowed hit all de 
time zhu. Yah! Yah! Yah! 

“Dis ‘ ol’ hoss-pistol hard to beat; mighty 
dangerous weepon,” said Cato, holding it up for 
inspection, an old single barrel pistol which was 
complete in all except lock and tube. 

“When I pulled down on yer, yo life was 
not wouf fo’ bits. I was put dar to watch de 
entrance to de camp, an’ if anyt’ing ’proach us 
from dat way hit hab to walk ober de body ob 
a nigger, perviden hit could cotch him. Yah! Yah! 


228 


“Nebber cotch a coon a nappin, eh!” said 
Cato, drawing his long, bony fingers along over 
the logs of the building, and at the same time 
screeching in no mean imitation of that jolly ani- 
mal to which he had just likened himself. 

“Well Cato,” replied Brown, “if that weap- 
on o^ yours is so dangerous, I am glad you did 
not fire, but those ghosts which you have been 
hearing are nothing but wolves and owls. The 
spirits of the dead never come back to earth to 
frighten honest men.” 

“Doan you fool yo’sef! De whole heaben 
an’ yearth seems to be alibe wid screechin’ deb- 
bils. Haint hearn hit to-night, but hit is sure 
to begin afore long.” 

While Cato was finishing his last sentence, 
strange weird sounds came echoing up the gulch. 

There was, indeed, an unearthly clamor in 
these sounds, that gave some foundation for 
Cato’s apprehensions. 

At first they came at regular intervals, but 
soon they burst out in an unearthly tumult of 
screeches and yells. 

“Now dar, what you t’ink.? No wolves or 
owls make sich a noise as dat. Nuffin’but de 
debbils do sich infernal hollerin.” 

“Cato, those sounds admit of an easy ex- 
planation. The Delawares are holding their 


229 


regular Buffalo-danc6. 

‘•Were you to go to the top of yonder bluff 
and look over into the valley, instead of ghosts 
or devils gliding through the air, you \vould see 
several hundred naked Indian warriors dancing 
around the piles of buffalo meat, gesticulating 
and screaming in a manner but little inferior to 
your supposed ghosts.” 

“Yo don’t say so!” said Pompey, who now 
advanced to greet the Captain. 

“We’se been bearin’ dese sounds eber since 
we come heah, but could not t’ink dey could be 
anyt’ing but de songs ob debbils.” 

“Why did you not try to ascertain the nature 
of the tumult.^” said Brown. 

“Case jes so long as de debbil doan moles’ 
us, we’re not a gwine to bodder him, an’ we’se 
had ’nuff trouble ’scapin’ from de ’Zurians, let er- 
lone sotten de debbil onto us. We’se kept 
mighty close in dis place, and haint seed nobody 
cept Massa Kammany and yo sef.” 

“Don’t you know, Pompey, that Mr. Kam- 
man has been taken prisoner by the Calhoun 
men, and that Jerry Stibbins was also taken, and 
has been reported dead 

“Yo doan say !” said Pompey, 

“Yes, Mr, Kamman is a prisoner, but my 
men are collecting, and making hasty prepara- 


230 


tions for his recapture.” 

“Why doan dey come an’ git Cato an’ de 
ol’ hoss pistol to lead ’em in de fight said 
that worthy as he again drew his fingers along 
a log, scratching and screeching in a manner 
that very materially strengthened his claim to 
being a member of the “coon” family. 

’’They would hardly want a leader who 
would consture an Indian dance into a jubilee of 
ghosts and devils.” 

“Shu dar Cap’n! You t’ink Cato no fight. ^ 
Didn’t took you out dar in de woods, eh! 
Yah! Yah! Yah! 

“I’se a fitah, I is, but de heels sometimes 
tote me from de scene ob action befo’ de wah is 
ober.” 

“We have no time to talk longer,” said Brown 
“To-night we must leave this place for another 
where we can make more extended preparations 
for our journey to Canada.” 

“Shu dah, you doan say so, Cap’n,” ex- 
claimed several of the fugitives, simultaneously. 

“You mean dat.^” said Pompey. “Now Ise 
got er family ter depend on me workin in Can- 
ady to git money to buy dar freedom wid, but 
Ise not gwine ter Canedi’s land till Massa Kam- 
many is tuk from de Calhouners. 

“Jes de way he talked to de culled folks 


231 


down in Carliner am nuff to make ebery culled 
man in der Ian’ fight fo him.” 

“ Haint gwine ter fight fo nobody,” said 
Cato, “in dis Ian where de Zurians, de ghosts, 
de Injuns, and de debbles is thicker dan de har 
on a nigger’s head. Ise bound fo Canady, whar 
nar am no Injuns, no ghosts, no Zurians, and 
praps no debbils!” 

After making hasty preparations for the 
journey, Brown and his sable companions left 
the citadel at Dead Man’s Gulch, ascended the 
bluff, and wended their way across the northern 
hill. Onward they persued their way, over hills 
and across narrow plains until the rays of the 
rising sun proclaimed the hour of rest. 

After a hasty repast the fugitives stretched 
themselves upon the earth to rest among the 
bushes that fringed the banks of the small 
stream near which they had halted. 

Late in the afternoon they resumed their 
journey. Having passed through the most pop- 
ulous parts of the Pro-Slavery settlements. 

Brown was beginning to think that the crit- 
ical point had been passed, when a solitary 
horseman was seen riding rapidly across the 
plain in the direction of the travelers. Close 
inspection proved him to be an Indian, and as he 
approached -still nearer. Brown recognized the 


232 


stately figure, and the aged and melancholy 
features of Wampawara. The Kanza rode up 
to the Captain and thus addressed him : 

“Men are following upon your trail. One 
man is hard to follow, but many make a broad 
path. When the moon shines upon the earth, 
then will the palefaces ria'e furiously!” 

“Tell me, Wampawara,” said Brown, “what 
tidings have come from the young white 
hunter.?” 

A slight smile played over the Kanza’s 
features as he replied : “The Panther is stout 
of heart and knows how to break his chains. 
The young Kanza has not been asleep.” 

Having delivered his message, Wampawara 
turned his horse and rode away and soon disap- 
peared in the timber of an adjacent stream. 

Brown readily understood the Indian’s mes- 
sage, and hastily concerted a plan to meet the 
emergency. Had he been leading a band of 
Indian warriors to separate and throw the pur- 
suers off the trail would have been an easy task, 
but with a band of fugitive slaves wholly un- 
acquainted with the country, and unaccustomed 
to the experience of the border, the feat was 
more difficult. 

There were but three guns in the company, 
but with these the Rifle Chieftain resolved to re- 
sist the pursuers. 


233 


They were about ten miles distant from the 
head-waters of the Winding Serpent, and at 
that point Brown determined to meet the foe. 

Without delay the fugitives moved on and 
twilight found them safely entrenched in the 
natural defenses afforded by the banks of the 
Winding Serpent. 

The trail at the crossing led for several 
hundred feet down a gulch some fifteen or twen- 
ty feet in depth and about twice that number in 
width. 

The borders of the gulch were fringed with 
weeds and bushes in which the fugitives were 
secreted, and, having placed sentinels at proper 
places, the captain sat down with his forces to 
await the coming of the enemy. 


©l]apter /K.X. 

We must now return to Mr. Kamman and 
his daughter at their lodgings in the “mansion” 
of the renowned leader at Catfish Bottom. 

In the citadel of that illustrious squatter 
sovereign they had an opportunity to partake of 
the hospitality of frontier chivalry. 

Many were the visits received by the wound- 
ed parson, from the distinguished voting popu- 
lation of the Bottom. 

Some came to jeer, others through curiosity, 
others to persuade him to reveal the hiding place 
of Brown’s “stolen niggers.” 

Among the latter was Theopholis Spilkins. 
When ushered into the room where the mission- 
ary was confined this representative of modern 
chivalry addressed the prisoner thus: 

“Well Kamman, I’m sorry to see you in 
confinement again; but necessity led to this step. 
We meet here under circumstances similar to 
our parting. You persist in opposing a right- 
eous institution, and it only brings you trouble. 


23.5 


“You know where Brown has secreted those 
niggers and if you will reveal the secret and 
promise to leave the territory forthwith, you 
shall be given your freedom; but if you persist 
in an unholy cause, remember that you are in 
our power, and what your fate may be, we will 
allow you to conjecture.” 

“Such language,” replied Mr. Kamman, 
“well becomes Theopholis Spilkins, the man who 
claims to be a Christian and a gentleman, and at 
the same time would excite a predjudiced mob 
to do deeds of violence that are a disgrace to 
civilization. 

“You are a fair sample of the men who are 
trying to force slavery upon Kansas. There is 
scarcely a crime that you and your minions 
would hesitate to commit— and all under the 
guise of religion. 

“Why come to me after all that has hap- 
pened in the past.^ If I happen to know where 
those colored fugitives are, be assured that, 
though my head should pay the penalty, the se- 
cret I will not reveal. 

“No, you may hang me on the tallest tree 
on the Winding Serpent and you will find out 
nothing from me. 

“lam surprised, Spilkins, that you should 
come to me at all, after your conduct toward me 


236 

while I was a stranger in a strange land. 

“But God shall judge between us, and He 
will judge aright. 

“I know full well into whose hands I have 
fallen, but no danger or cruelty from your men 
of blood can induce me to turn traitor to what 
is right. 

“Where is your boasted chivalry.-^ Where 
is your humanity.^ that you bring my child, a 
prisoner, into this unwholesome abode.” 

“When your daughter reveals the wherea- 
bouts of our property she will be at liberty to 
retire from the territory, but until that revela- 
tion is made, she must remain under our pro- 
tection.” 

*‘My daughter will reveal nothing, and, al- 
though she does not positively know the location 
of the fugitives, she would not. were it in her 
power, give the slightest information . 

“As to her remaining under your protec- 
tion, allow me to state that she is forcibly and 
rudely detained as a prisoner by unscrupulous 
men.” 

Mr. Spilkins was highly incensed at the 
missionary’s allusion to the captivity of his 
daughter, but quietly replied: 

“Kamman, you do us an injustice by your 
intimations. We offer both yourself and daugh- 


237 


ter your freedom, and promise our protection if 
you will but disclose what you can not fail to 
know in regard to the action of our most dan- 
gerous enemy, Brown. 

“This is a time of war, and v'e are forced 
to do things that we would condemn under dif- 
ferent circumstances. 

•‘The sons of the South are generous and 
chivalrous, but public good demands our present 
action.” 

“Did public good demand your action at 
Sumnerville.^” said Mr. Kamman. 

“That,” said Spilkins, walking from the 
room, “was a circumstance of war.” 

Mr. Kamman had all this time been suffer- 
ing greatly from the effects of ill treatment at 
the Mission, and exposure to the storm. ’Ere 
he had sojourned at the mansion of the Catfish 
sovereign two days, he had fallen victim to a 
burning feve'r, and for several weeks lay vibrat- 
ing between life and death. 

Anna watched by the bedside of her father 
with a devotion that excited even the admiration 
of the rough spirits by whom she was surround- 
ed. 

The only female companion of the unhappy 
young stranger was Mrs. Jinsy Mason, the wife 
of the redoubtable leader of the Bottom. 

i6 


238 


At first the hostess only spoke to her guest 
as her duty demanded, and even it was in such 
a cold, haughty manner that it was evident that 
she regarded the stranger with feelings that 
are always manifested toward dangerous pesti- 
lent persons, but as Mr. Kamman grew worse, 
and as Anna’s trouble increased as she in her 
loneliness watched by the bed of the invalid, 
the demeanor of Mrs. Mason softened, and hu- 
manity asserted its power over prejudice. 

She treated the lonely girl with maternal 
tenderness, and tried in innumerable ways to 
comfort her, and Anna Kamman discovered 
that uncultured and unpolished as she was, with- 
in the bosom of Jinsy Mason beat a woman’s 
heart which in opposition to the circumstances 
of education and prejudice would assert its pow- 
er. 

How often in opposition to the prejudice of 
the mind does the human heart reveal traces of 
the lost Eden of the soul. 

One day while sitting together by the bed 
of the sick man, the following conversation took 
place: 

“Well, I can’t see,” said Mrs. Mason, “but 
what their killin’ and fightin’ and prisonin’ is all 
wrong. I’ve been brung up different from what 
you have, but I dont see as it would help our 


239 


own folks to have niggers in Kansas, cause we 
never owned a nigger in all our bornd days, and 
never expect to. Ever since we’ve been in this 
place, its just been a goin’ and a cornin’, a threat- 
enin’ and a fightin’, ’til I hardly know what to 
do. 

“With agerin the family, and with Josh and 
the boys a drinkin’ and carousin’, and a runnin’ 
here and there with them Calhoun fellers, a body 
gits so mixed up that it is hard to tell which 
from to*ther. No. good can come of it. When 
I had an-eachin’ in my left ear tother mornin’, 
I told Josh that somethin’ was about to happen 
to us. I tried to git him to stay at home and 
work, and let the Calhouners do their own fight- 
in’, but Josh appears to be sot agin the Aboli- 
tionists, and wont let up. - I aint a nigger lover, 
but I wish their work of fightin’ would stop. 

“You mought think hard of me cause I didn’t 
act free towards you when you first came to our 
house. I did think that you, bein’ an Abolition- 
ist, could not be zactly right; since I come to 
know you, I know there be good among all sorts. 

“I was a thinkin’ this mornin’ that my little 
girl, as died when she was just one year, seven 
months and three days old, would have been 
’bout, your age if she had lived, and I was won- 
derin’ if she wouldn’t ’o looked a little like you. 




240 


“She didn’t look nary grain like the rest of 
us, but was just as sweet and tender as a rose. 

“I think of her a good deal, and it does me 
good to have some one to compare with her.” 

While Mrs. Mason was talking her eyes 
filled with tears, and when Anna’s hand stole 
softly into that of the unhappy woman Mrs. Ma- 
son sobbed aloud, and printed a kiss upon the 
young girl’s forehead. 

Mr. Kamman continued to grow worse. 

His fever increased to such an extent that 
his captors began to think that their prey would 
yet escape them through the avenue of death, 
and, determined to wreak their vengeance upon 
Brown, through his friend, they were over anx- 
ious for his recovery. 

One day Anna and her father were sudden- 
ly disturbed by Josh Mason who rushed into the 
room exclaiming : ’’Hello! old man! We was 
afeerd as you’d shuffle off afore we could git a 
chance to help you swing out into the beautiful 
somewhere, and we can’t afford to miss the fun 
that we always have at a bangin’. 

’’We’re a decent set, parson, sure as gospel, 
and do’nt want to be found hangin’ a dead man. 

“So, you must be ’coutered ’cordin toHoil.’’ 

With these remarks the chief citizen of Cat- 
fish Bottom retired, from the room, leaving a 


241 


physician with the invalid. 

The stranger was a young man apparently 
about five and twenty years of age. He was a 
faultless specimen of physical manhood. His 
dark, brilliant eyes, high forehead, finely mould- 
ed features, and expressive countenance indicat- 
ed a character of vast intellectual force. 

This young man was a stranger in the Ter- 
ritory, having arrived at Calhoun on the proceed- 
ing week. 

All that the citizens of that place knew of 
him they learned from the sign above the door 
of his office, which read: “Richard Byron, M. 
D.” As a skillful physician was much needed 
at Calhoun, the stranger received a hearty wel- 
come, and few questions were asked about his 
former life. 

“Well, my friend,” said the physician, “you 
have had an unpleasant experience, but I hope 
to see you well in a short time.” 

“My anxiety,” replied Mr. Kamman, “is 
not for myself, but for my child. 

“O how my heart has ached as I have 
thought of her lonely life, a prisoner among 
strangers. But He who watches even the fall 
of a sparrow will not forget my motherless child. 

’’Although His ways are in the clouds, in 
all this work will the arm of the Lord be revealed.” 


242 


“How,” said the physician, “have you been 
treated by those into whose hands you have 
fallen?” 

“Our treatment has been as good as we 
could expect from the rude characters around 
us. 

‘ ‘The master of this house is rude and coarse 
and apparently destitute of the finer feelings of 
humanity, but the mistress is kind and sympa- 
thetic and has, in more ways than one, by little 
deeds of kindness, lightened the burdens of our 
imprisonment. 

“More than all other things connected with 
our captivity, we deplore the unholy cause to 
which we have fallen victims. 

“Your cause is wrong, all wrong. You can 
never plant slavery in Kansas. You may think 
that your cause is justified because it is in de- 
fense of a political institution which has the 
sanction of law, but the institution itself is a li- 
bel on humanity which only makes this, bloody 
war a greater crime. 

“Pardon my earnestness, which leads me to 
forget your kindness in coming to visit me in 
my distress. 

“God, bless you for it.” 

After prescribing in the usual manner for 
his patient the doctor took his leave. 


©liapter ^Xi. 

Our narration now. leads us back to the 
banks of the Winding Serpent, where we left 
Brown and the frightened fugitives awaiting the 
advance of the Calhoun Rangers. 

The night passed away without bringing 
any signs of the pursuers. 

The sun, ou the morning of the next day 
beamed upon the earth in unclouded glory. 

From their “lookout” on the banks of the 
gulch, the fugitives were enabled to take a survey 
of the surrounding country. 

The scene that flashed upon their vision was 
one of transcendent beauty. 

The valley as far as the range of vision ex- 
tended, was a bed, of sunflowers, which, as they 
swayed to and fro under the influence of the 
morning breeze, and glistened in the sunlight, 
presented the picture of a golden sea. 

At every swelling of the breeze, the yellow 
waves rolled across the plain in unrivaled splen- 
dor. 


244 


The atmosphere was untainted by cloud or 
fog, and as the vision wandered away into the 
crystal depths, until it reached the azure sea of 
mmensity, the mind experienced a sensation of 
delight as it contemplated that boundless mag- 
nificence which artists faintly apprehend but 
never paint. 

Across the gilded crest of the sea of flowers, 
on the summit of a distant hill, the fugitives be- 
held a party of mounted men riding along brisk- 
ly, on the trail which they had made on the 
previous day. 

It was- full two hours ’ere the Rangers 
crossed the valley from the hills and entered the 
gulch down which the trail led. 

The chieftain immediately prepared for the 
encounter. 

The only arms in possession of the fugitives 
were the three guns which Brown had brought 
from his cabin, Cato’s “hoss-pistol,” and the 
“walking stick” carried by the blacks. 

In one end of these sticks a sharp pointed 
spear had been inserted, making a weapon which 
was by no means to be despised in a close en- 
counter. 

On came the Rangers, talking and jest- 
ing, evidently unconscious that the pursuers 
and pursued were so near to each other. The 


245 

pursuing party had almost reached the channel 
of the stream — 

“Halt!” rang out in thunder tones from the 
banks of the gulch. 

“The man that moves one step dies.” 

The Captain and the fugitives were directly 
above the horsemen, pointing their guns and 
sticks at their heads. 

The ambush was so unexpected, and the 
confusion so great that the attacking party was 
instantly transformed into a legion of sable war- 
riors. The order was promptl5^ obeyed. 

“Dismount, stack arms, and retire to the 
other side of the gulch.” 

Th^ order was obeyed without protest and 
as soon as the arms were stacked. Brown and 
the fugitives rushed into the gulch and took 
possession of them. 

For the first time the Rangers discovered 
that they had been captured by one white man 
and ten negroes. 

Brown addressed the crestfallen cavaliers 
as foflows: 

“Gentlemen, behold your captors. The 
proud and haughty Caucasian of the sunny south 
is led captive by the accursed son of Cain. 

“You came forth armed with guns and pis- 
tols to meet men armed with sticks, and instead 


246 

of capturing, you are prisoners yourselves. 

“Your arms and horses we will retain with 
us, to devote to the cause of liberty. 

“Your lives are not worth taking. 

“My men scorn to take the lives of cowards, 
thirty of whom can be taken by almost unarmed 
men. 

“You, Bill Posey, may go back to Calhoun, 
and tell Higgins if he has a command it would 
be well for him to bring his entire force when 
he attempts the capture of free men. 

“Also inform Theopholis Spilkins that the 
work out here is different from running down 
slaves with blood-hounds in the swamps of the 
Carolinas. ” 

The captured Rangers were then command- 
ed to kneel upon the earth and each one in his 
order, repeat a prayer, making intercession for 
the success of the Anti-Slavery party in Kansas 
and the ultimate downfall of slavery in the land. 

Brown framed the prayer, and it was re- 
peated by each of the fallen crusaders. 

After the conclusion of this ceremony, the 
unhorsed knights were ordered to depart, and 
on foot, and unarmed, they slowly filed away, 
“sadder but wiser” men. 

Brown watched them until they had disap- 
peared in the valley, and, after securing the arms 


247 


and horses of his late prisoners, he resumed his 
march. 

The place of his destination was that point 
where the Winding Serpent rises among the 
brakes and crags of the Blue Ridges. 

Among these famous hills, where human 
feet had seldom trod, was what was known to 
the hunters and Indian warriors as “Devil’s 
Wigwam. ” 

The place had received its name from the 
Kanzas when they yet owned this portion of 
the territory. 

The defile leading to the “Wigwam” was 
principally formed by two perpendicular walls 
of solid limestone, which ran parallel to each 
other for the distance of several hundred feet, 
and the shelving rocks at the top came so near- 
ly in contact with each other that the opening 
between the ridges bore a striking resemblance 
to a subterraneous canal. 

This opening was about twenty feet in 
width and from sixty to one hundred feet in 
height. At the upper terminus, the walls parted 
abruptly at the entrance of a small basin-like 
valley which contained, probably, two acres. 

It is in this valley that the waters of the 
Winding Serpent start on. their journey to the 


sea. 


248 


Just opposite the arched entrance to the 
valley is the famous “Wigwam” which the un- 
lettered child of nature believed to be the home 
of the “Evil Spirit.” 

It was, indeed, a gloomy, dismal, place and 
situated as it was, where the scream of the eagle, 
the cry of the catamount, and the whine of the 
panther were the only voices that ever broke 
the monotony of its wildness, it is not strange 
that its haunts were seldom disturbed by hu- 
man feet. 

The “Wigwam” was a deep cave in the side 
of the upper wall of the valley. From this cave 
the creek burst into the vale below. 

Back several yards from the mouth of this 
cave was a cataract, formed by the water of a 
subterraneous stream pouring over some shelv- 
ing rocks, with a dashing, roaring, rumbling, 
rushing sound, which, heard from a distance, 
admitted of various explanations. These sounds 
resounding through the cavern, and aided by 
the winds that shrieked, and howled as they 
rushed up the gorge, were well calculated to in- 
spire the wild man with awe. Often had the 
red warrior stood on the eminence above the 
basin and listened to the mysterious sounds that 
came from beneath, but he never descended into 
the supposed abode of wicked spirits. 


249 


Indian superstition had even seen the spir- 
its of the cave as they went out and came in on 
their journeys over the plains. 

Nor did this superstition extend only to the 
Indian. 

The white buffalo hunter and the trapper 
had heard so many ghostly tales about the 
“haunted cave” that they shunned it by common 
consent. 

In this citadel, Brown established his band, 
feeling assured that he could hold it securely 
against all the combined troops on the border. 

“Shu,” said Cato as the fugitives filed up the 
avenue between the cliffs, “’pears dat dar am 
nuffin’ but fi’tin’, ’citement, an’ runnin’ an’ hidin’ 
in dis kentry, whar a pusson nebber knows but 
what his shadder will turn into a ’Zurian, ghost, 
or debble. 

“Fu’st we’s been among de ghosts down to 
de shanty, den we’s been ’tacked by de prayen 
Rangers down to de foad, an’ now we’s heah whar 
de berry squint ob de hills makes er body skeery 
at dey doan know what.” 

> “Cato,” said the captain, “if you want to 

gain your freedom, you must not be afraid of 
anything that you encounter.” 

“Hole on dar, capting, you tink Cato not 
fight. Didn’t Cato took you in down to de ole 






250 


house? Didn’t Cato’s ole hoss-pistol skeer de 
prayen Rangers so dat dey s’render down to de 
gulch? Yah! yahl yah!” 

The cavern was a place well calculated to 
inspire superstition. 

As the new inhabitants walked through the 
winding passages of their citadel, the massive 
walls sent back the echo of their footsteps with 
such force that at times the place seemed to be 
indeed the habitation of beings that dwell not 
in flesh. 

Several yards distant from the entrance the 
rocks above parted, allowing a stream of sunlight 
to penetrate that portion of the cavern. 

At that point, the captain ordered his men 
to arrange their camp. 

After the necessary work of arranging, in 
systematic order, the equipments of the camp. 
Brown, with all present, knelt down in that sol- 
itary temple and offered thanks to Providence 
for, as he believed, their deliverance. 


©}]0ipter pK-Xll. 

Mr, Kamman, under the skillful treatment 
of his physician, had improved in health, and 
was now able to be out of bed a portion of the 
time. 

The cause of his confinement no long;er ex- 
isted. Since Brown’ sescape with the negroes, 
the secret which Mr. Kamman had refused to 
impart had become known to all, and his friends 
had hoped that as there no longer remained a 
cause for detaining him, he might be released 
from confinement. 

But the disappointed Rangers were not dis- 
posed to weigh the matter so lightly. Their 
rage over the escape of the slaves, and the dis- 
grace which they had experienced at the Wind- 
ing Serpent was unbounded, and they were de- 
termined to visit their displeasure upon some 
one. 

After considerable deliberation they decided 
to organize a court at “headquarters” in Catfish 
Bottom, and try Kamman for treason. Accord- 


252 


ingly a large concourse of people assembled at 
the “Hotel-de-Mason” to act as spectators of a 
“Border Court.” 

Judge Bragnio, of Missouri, presided over 
the “Court.” 

Twelve citizens of Missouri acted as jurors. 
The dignified judgevery pathetically lamented 
his fate in being forced to occupy the position 
that circumstances had forced upon him. He, 
however, infomed the audience that the majesty 
of the law must be maintained, even, as he ex- 
pressed it, if it did “sot agin’ a body. ” 

The prisoner was taken before “His Honor” 
to answer to the charge of treason. 

Theprisoner refused to answer to the charge, 
and the trial went on. 

The witnesses for the state were introduced 
by Mr. Spilkins, who in making his attack on 
the prisoner, charged him with treason against 
the Commonwealth of Missouri, with having in- 
duced and aided slaves to run away from their 
masters; with an attempt to induce the slaves of 
South Carolina to rise in insurrection, and also 
he was charged with the murder of Doylan and 
his friends on Purgatory Creek. 

The jury retired to the trees back of the 
house after the conclusion of the trial, and hav- 
ing stimulated themselves with the contents of 


‘ 253 


a brown jug, spent several hours in a border ca- 
rousal, in which Judge and Attorney participated 
blithsomely. 

The Court was finally carried to the bench 
and the jury summoned to report. 

The foreman handed the Judge a piece of 
paper on which was scrawled in puzzling hiero- 
glyphics the following as translated by the writ- 
ter of the verdict: “We, the jurors, as has bin 
settin’ on the Abolitionist preacher do find him 
guilty of all the charges, and a blasted sight 
more, and we advise that the cuss be swung 
to the highest tree in thekentry. ” 

After the verdict had been announced, the 
Court arose and asked the prisoner if he could 
give any reason why sentence should not be pro- 
nounced. 

“Sirs,” said the' prisoner, “my conscience 
toward God is void of offense. 

“You have determined to add one more vic- 
tim to your long list of bloody murders. 

“Your scheme is murder which you would 
fain conceal under the shadow of law. I will 
say no more.” 

The Court regretted that the justice and 
patriotism of the people of Missouri had been 
unappreciated and misrepresented by the people 
of Kansas. He deplored the war, and said that 

17 


254 - 


it would terminate immediately if the Abolition- 
ists would only submit. 

After these consoling lamentations the 
Court proceeded to pronounce the following 
sentence: “You, John Kamman, having been 
found guilty of treason, murder, and theft, I do 
now sentence you to hang by the neck until you 
are dead.” 

Anna had not been permitted to witness 
the trial of her father, but on hearing the result 
she cast herself at the feet of Judge Bragnio, 
and implored him to save the doomed man, urg- 
ing the common feelings of humanity by which 
we should all be actuated, and the condition of 
Mr. Kamman’s health. 

But the Court was by this time too com- 
pletely under the magic spell of the little brown 
jug to even understand the petition of the fair 
pleader at his feet . 

“This foolishness must stop,” said Mr. Spil- 
kins, advancing and seizing Anna rudely by the 
arm, intent upon dragging her from the pres- 
ence of the Court. 

“The Abolitionist has had a fair trial and 
the law” — The sentence was not finished. A 
tall, athletic young man sprang forward and com- 
plimented the Carolinan with a swinging blow 
upon the temple, that sent him staggering full 


i 


255 


length upon the floor. 

At the same instant the Court was siezed 
by the collar and hurled from his seat of author- 
ity to the place where Spilkins had fallen. 

“His Honor” fell unceremoniously upon 
the prostrate form of the prostrate Carolinan, 
and, having had his confused faculties somewhat 
disturbed by the shock, he opened his eyes 
dreamily, and asked if anyone had “caught the 
mule.” 

Anna Kamman and her father were instant- 
ly greeted by the familiar voice ot Albert Kings- 
ley. 

Gentle reader, we know full well what you 
would deem an ideal meeting between two lovers 
so long separated, and so strangely brought to- 
gether again, — “she utters a piercing cry, and 
falls swooning in his arms. He clasps the frag- 
ile form in strong embraces, pillows the droop- 
ing head upon the manly breast, lays the blanch- 
ed cheek against the well groomed burnsides, 
feels the fluttering heart beating against the 
lapel of his Prince Albert, kisses the pearly tear 
drops from soft eyes; and swears by the powers 
eternal that he will stand by her though he 
swims through seas of gore.” Such, kind reader, 
was not the meeting between Anna Kamman 
and Albert Kingsley. 


256 


“I am glad you have come,” said Mr= Kam- 

man. 

“Oh, you will save my father!” said Anna, 
and Kingsley, after shaking hands with his 
friends, turned to assist the gentleman from 
Bitter Creek, who having upset the “Court” was 
now engaged in a tussle with “His Honor’s” 
minions. 

“To arms! To arms!” cried a voice outside 
the building: “The Abolitionists are upon us.” 

A glance down the valley revealed the Cause 
of alarm. A small body of horsemen came gal- 
loping toward the house. 

The struggle which had been occasioned by 
the overturning of the “Court” had ceased, and 
the Judge, having become somewhat conscious 
of the situation ordered his friends to retire to 
the stable of Mr. Mason, where Higgins had as- 
sembled his men to await the action of the new- 
comers, who were now within a few hundred 
yards of the house. 

The “Court,” Mr. Spilkins, and several 
parties lately engaged in the struggle, left the 
house, leaving Mr. Kamman, and Anna, Kingsley 
and the Hoosier the only occupants. 

In the recent struggle no arms had been 
used, and no one had been injured, save Mr. 
Spilkins, who had received a severe blow from 


257 


Kingsley, when the affray commenced. 

The party that had appeared in the valley 
had halted, and were evidently deliberating on 
their future movements. 

Higgins and his friends were discussing the 
propriety of moving out against the strangers, 
when a solitary horseman came riding rapidly 
toward the stable where the rangers had assem- 
bled. 

The newcomer proved to be Dr. Byron, of 
' Calhoun. 

The Doctor reported that a party of Aboli- 
tionists had been seen near Calhoun that morn- 
ing, and that a report had reached the town 
that “old Brown” was dawing near Catfish Bot- 
tom with a large army of riflemen. 

At the mention of that dreaded name the 
utmost consternation prevailed among the Rang- 
ers. 

“I thought,” said Higgins, “that Brown had 
been seen leaving the Territory with some ne- 
gros, several days ago.” 

“He is the devil in human form,” said Mr. 
Spilkins, “and can be in a thousand places at 
once.” 

“Our homes are in danger,” said ‘‘Col. ” 
Higgins. 

“It matters not what becomes of that abo- 


258 


litionist preacher now, since he can be of no 
more use to us, and if them hossmen want to 
tote him off, they be welcome to him.” 

Dr. Byron was dispatched to bear this in- 
telligence to Mr. Kamman, and the Rangers, 
“court,” attorney, and all followed Col. Higgins 
away toward Calhoun. 

Thus ended the famous trial over which 
Judge Bragnio presided at Catfish Bottom. It 
was the judge’s first experience as a “court” in 
Kansas, and when the gentleman from Bitter 
Creek landed “His Honor” on the outlines of Mr. 
Spilkins, the “court” was indefinitely adjourned. 

Over all this irregular skirmishing, the name 
of Brown had exerted a magic influence, and 
had brought it to a hasty termination. 

The horsemen before mentioned, had by 
this time reached the house where Kingsley had 
signaled them, for they proved to be a portion 
of the company which he and Montgomery had 
raised to recapture Kamman and his daughter. 
These men had been in company with Mont- 
gomery, who had formed his camp several miles 
distant from Calhoun, and was preparing to 
move against that place as soon as a sufficient 
force could be collected. Kingsley had been 
informed by Wampawara, that Mr. Kamman 
was to be tried at Catfish Bottom on that day, 


259 


and, with the Hoosier, had resolved to witness a 
“border trial,” directing his men to follow to the 
“Hotel de Mason.” 

Some time had elapsed since Kingsley had 
commenced his search for the recent prisoners, 
but he had believed them to be imprisoned at 
Calhoun, until he again met the aged Kanza 
who gave him the much desired information. 

After a consultation had been held between 
Kingsley and Dr. Byron, the party prepared to 
move immediately from the famous voting pre- 
cinct. 

Mr. Kamman’s health was not such as would 
have warranted such a step under different cir- 
cumstances, but it was plainly evident that the 
Rangers would not remain quiet, and neither 
Brown nor Montgomery had sufficient force to 
cope with them. The only hope left the Free- 
State men was strategy, until their forces could 
be mustered. 

According to hasty arrangement, the late 
prisoners were summoned to depart. Although 
having been a prisoner in her house, Anna shed 
tears when she gave the parting hand to Mrs. 
Mason. Wholly unlike in manner and educa- 
tion, these women, one young and refined, the 
other past the central meridian of life, uncul- 
tured and blunt in manner, had formed an affec- 


26 p 

tion for. each, other which was destined to be as 
lasting as it was. .sincere.. 

“I’m sorry,” said Mrs. Mason, as Anna 
kissed her an affectionate farewell, “That you 
have been so badly used by our folks. Don’t 
think too hard of us. We’ve been mi’ty sot 
ag’in the abolitionists, but I haint a goin’ to hold 
spite ag’in nobody any more. .If ever Jinsey 
Mason can help you, she will be glad .to do it. 
Would be proud to have you stay, but hits best 
for you to go. Josh is so tuk in with the Cal- 
houners that there’s no knowin’ what he will do 
next, and the boys are wild to foller the ways 
of the old man.” 

With many vows of friendship, Anna parted 
from her friend, with a strong conviction that 
amid the rubbish and dross of human nature may 
be found many a gem of purest ray. 

The human heart is better than the human 
mind, and always when a concession is made to 
an individual opposition, we may know that the 
heart has been first to yield. 

Mr. Kamman and Anna were placed in a 
cart, which was purchased of one of the heirs of 
the house of Mason, and the party moved away. 

It had been the Missionary’s intention to 
return to the Delaware village, but ’ere they had 
proceeded one mile upon their journey, they 


26 i 


were met by Wampawara, who addressed the 
fallowing to Kingsley: 

“The wolf is always hungry; he scents blood 
afar off; he is waiting to quench his thirst in the 
blood of his enemies. Turn aside and go to the 
nest of the Lone Eagle. There shall the sick 
find comfort. The Eagle says come.” 

Having delivered his message, the Kanza 
reined his pony and rode slowly away. 

“What did he mean.?” said Kingsley, ad- 
dressing Mr. Kamman. “It was from him that 
I received the first intimation of your capture.” 

“He,’' said the missionary, “is one of the 
noblest specimens of nature’s own manhood — a 
scion of a mighty race of sachems — the embodi- 
ment of honor. His were not idle words. Some 
danger awaits us, and we will go to the home of 
the old man whom the chief called the ‘Lone 
Eagle.’ In him we will find a friend.” 

The party turned to the west, and soon 
reached the spurs of the Blue Ridges. Finding 
it impossible to proceed farther with the cart, it 
was abandoned. Mr. Kamman and Anna were 
placed upon horses, and after a ride of several 
hours over sharp bluffs and across deep gulches, 
they arrived at the “nest.” 

“Welcome,” said the old man. “Welcome 
to my humble abode. We never regret the lack 


262 


of the blessings of life so much as when we wish 
to bestow hospitality upon a friend and find that 
these temporal gifts are wanting. 

“But we will endeavor to make you as com- 
fortable as circumstances will permit. ‘Dien 
vous garde.’ 

“Fair lady, the storm has again blown you 
to the hills. 

“Four and sixty years have passed since 
that time. 

“The olive blossoms of the vales of the 
winding Garonne were not more tender than she. 

“From life to death, from death to life!” 

The old man recovered from the fit of mus- 
ing into which he had fallen, and invited his 
guests to enter the “Nest.” 

Their coming had been anticipated. 

Along the walls of the cavern berths had 
been arranged in sufficient numbers to accom- 
modate all the members of Mr. Kamman’s party. 

The host, having attended to the temporal 
necessities of his quests, informed them how 
he had thwarted the plans of the Calhoun Rang- 
ers, and accomplished what probably resulted in 
saving the life of Mr. Kamman. 

Through the agency of a friend at Calhoun 
the old man had been informed of every move- 
ment contemplated by the Rangers, and through 


263 


the co-operation of Wampawarahad managed to 
keep Kingsley and Montgomery under the im- 
pression that the prisoners were confined at Cal- 
houn. 

“But wlty,” said Kingsley, “did you wish 
to mislead us.^*” 

“That I might save the life of Mr. Kam- 
man,” was the reply. “You had not force suffi- 
cient to attempt the recapture of your friends 
so long as they were not in danger of immediate 
violence, and it had been ordered by Col. Hig- 
gins that he be shot, should an attempt be made 
for his recapture. 

“Upon being informed by my friend at Cal- 
houn that on this day the Ranger leader had 
determined to visit his disappointed anger upon 
Mr. Kamman, I sent the Kanza to bear you tid- 
ings, and determined also to try the magic 
name of the Rifle Chief upon the Rangers, and 
the result you know. 

“If the prisoner had been in danger of im- 
mediate violence, you should have been inform- 
ed of their place of confinement, but so long as 
no immediate danger threatened, it was deemed 
prudent to allow the invalid as much time as 
possible in which to recover.” 

“Your plan was the wiser one,” said Kings- 
ley, “but it caused us much anxiety,” and as he 


spoke the young man glanced hastily at Anna, 
causing the gentleman from Bitter Greek to 
“giggle,” and wink his eye at another member 
of the company in a manner which in polished 
society might not have been considered indica- 
tive of good breeding, but it was overlooked 
good-humoredly by those concerned, for on the 
border in those trying times, men were not es- 
timated by some pretended accomplishment, but 
by what they proved themselves to be. 


©I^apter /K-XUl. 

Mr. Kamman abandoned all hope of an im- 
mediate return to the Mission, and at the earn- 
est solicitation of his host he consented to re- 
main at the “Nest” until the clouds of war should 
be blown away, and thus avoid another exposure 
to danger. 

Another reason for remaining was the un- 
settled state of the Missionary’s health. 

Since the night that the Rangers treated 
him so roughly at the Mission, Mr. Kamman had 
not only endured a severe attack of fever as a 
consequence, but had suffered much from severe 
pains in his head — the result of the blow he had 
received. 

Dr. Byron had written him, through the 
help of Wampawara, and protested against his 
leaving his present abode until he received the 
doctor’s consent. 

Messengers were dispatched to the Dela- 
ware village to secure the necessary household 
goods which the Kammans had left there, and 


266 


in this strange place the father and daughter 
took up their abode indefinitely. 

Having secured his friends in a place where 
they were not liable to molestation, Kingsley 
and his comrades returned to Montgomery’s 
camp, intending to go to Brown’s assistance as 
soon as his whereabouts could be known. 

Mr. Kamman was forced to keep to his bed 
for a portion of the time, and when able to con- 
verse, he engaged his host in conversation upon 
the various topics that embrace human experi- 
ence. 

Anna spent her time in caring for her fath- 
er, reading the books of which the old man had 
an abundant store, and wandering among the 
hills in the vicinity of the “Nest.” 

“Sans Dieu rien!” Four and sixty years 
have passed since then. It was a bloody day.” 

The old man had been sitting by the bedside 
of the Missionary, and had been in one of his 
customary fits of musing. 

“Of what do you speak.?” said Mr. Kamman, 
interested in the strange manner and peculiar 
words of his host. 

“The story is a sad one, and yet it reaches 
through the vale of death and into the sunlight 
of immortality.” 

The old man then related the story of his 


26/ 

former life, as he had told it to Anna when she 
first visited the “Nest.” 

“My daughter has told me your sad history, 
and I have longed to converse with one who has 
had so deep experience in the darkest shadows 
of life, and has through it all kept his eyes fixed 
upon the sunlight that flows in an ocean of glo- 
ry beyond the clouds of mortality. Teach me, 
aged patriarch, the lesson of life. 

“I have longed to learn from one who has 
seen and felt. 

“I have sometimes, in hours of gloom, thought 
that even my lot in life had not been evenly bal- 
lanced with that of other men, but since hearing 
your history, I feel that my experience has been 
sunshine, when compared with yours.” 

‘ ‘For four and sixty years have I been adrift 
on the sea of mortality, cut loose from all moor- 
ings, and ever feeling that the last hope of earth 
had been removed. 

“But, as you may have inferred from my 
early life, such were not my thoughts then. 

“Then, life to me, was an ideal paradise. 
It was no difficult task to believe and hope when 
experience was the realization of one’s ideal of 
life. 

“But, as you have heard, that beautiful world 
was overcast by a dark and dismal cloud. It 


268 

was then that faith lost her power, and the sub- 
limity of life gave way to darkness and despair. 
/ “But all these experiences have their part 
to act in the drama of life.” 

“Why not say tragedy of life.?” said the Mis- 
sionary. 

“Because it is only so deemed by those who 
know not its relation to the final perfection of 
the designs in nature. 

“Life is a tragedy only to those who have 
not courage to meet its reverses. 

“Adversity is the school in which men 
train in the deepest discipline of life, and by its 
lessons are enabled to penetrate farther into the 
mystery of its realities than in any other.” 

“But adversity,” said the Missionary, “is 
the school in which so many are led into the 
mists and darkness from which they never re- 
turn.” 

“True! true!” said the old man. 

“Many there are who never look beyond 
the cloud that hangs directly over their heads, 
when even the mountain summits reach up into 
the sunshine. Men stop discouraged, despair- 
ing, and lose all faith in the higher aspirations 
of life. Like myself when first overtaken by ad- 
versity, they are ready to believe that a cold 
fatality is the only law that governs human des- 


269 


tiny, and I need not repeat that such philoso- 
phy is more dismal than even the darkest shad- 
ows that fall upon the grave.” 

“Men despair honestly,” said Mr. Kamman, 
“and we are often at a loss to supply a remedy 
for them. The)^ so often discover that supposed 
realities are but phantoms, and gradually fall 
into the belief that life, after all, is but a dark, 
hopeless, resultless tragedy, which ends in eter- 
nal forgetfulness when death drops his sable 
curtains at the close of the last act.” 

“There are no supposed realities . Things 
are what they seem to be. Life is more real 
than we are capable of analyzing it. What we 
call phantoms are, if not real, shadows of reali- 
ties. It is hard to distinguish the reality from 
the shadow, but is it unreasonable to believe that 
in the higher life, we shall see, understand, and 
experience as realities, many things which we 
had deemed but shadows here. The unknowa- 
ble, mysterious longings of the human mind and 
heart must have their origin in some reality. 

“The mind is a gallery in which many 
strange, fantastic pictures are produced, but all 
these pictures must of necessity be images of 
something real, and it makes no difference 
whether those realities belong to this or another 
state of life. 

18 


2/0 


“Too lightly we think of the possible affin- 
ity and probable communication between, or 
along the borders of the world seen and the 
world unseen.” 

“But,” said Mr. Kamman, “that is only 
speculation, and has no warrant in the gospel. 

“When we step aside from revelation, we 
walk in the dark, and what is not clearly set 
forth in God’s holy word is dangerous, or to say 
the least, of no vital importance to man in form- 
ulating his philosophy and rule of life.” 

“Religion needs no revelation.” was the re- 
ply. “It is implanted in the very nature of man. 
Inward consciousness supplies evidence unattain- 
able elsewhere.” 

“Would you, then, discard the great plan of 
salvation which God provided for men.^ 

“Would you make the work of Christ of no 
effect.^” 

“No. I might feel disposed to discard 
much of the false theory that fervent pagans 
have mingled with the elements of true religion, 
but for the great and sublime religious philoso- 
phy of the sinless Nazarene, I have the deepest 
and most sincere reverence. 

“His teachings have become the laws of hu- 
man progress. 

“His philosophy comprehended all the ills 


2/1 


and misfortunes of human life. He looked upon 
life in all its conditions. He contemplated all of 
its associations. He analyzed its very essence. 
He comprehended all of its demands. 

“His career was the day dawn of a better 
era. His words were words of wisdom. His 
life was a life of purity. He exemplified His 
precepts by the purity of his life, and if His 
words were beautiful, His life was sublime. 

“No! no! the serene teacher of Galilee was 
God’s best gift to man. His influence will con- 
tinue to inspire men to higher aims and nobler 
deeds until the regeneration of the human fami- 
ly shall have been accomplished.” 

“Divine revelation is not confined to books 
which men may change to suit every shade of 
theological speculation, but every page of na- 
ture’s volumes is rich in the handwriting of the 
Great Eternal. His paths are marked among 
the stars. His voice is heard in the rippling 
brook. His name is inscribed in letters of liv- 
ing inspiration upon the face of all nature. 

“His power is manifested in the course of 
passing events. His ways are without reproach. 

“Though sometimes veiled in clouds and 
darkness, His providence will ultimately accom- 
plish the happiness, and place higher up in the 
scale of life, every conscious existence.” 


2/2 


“You believe then,” said Mr. Kamman, “in 
the final triumph of good.” 

“Yes, the belief may be traced back to hope; 
but it is certainly strengthened by observation 
and experience.” 

“ Why then,” said the missionary, all this 
evil.^ Why this sorrow, pain and death.^ Why 
do things in this life so often appear but silent 
mockery to all human aspirations.^ Why do 
the fairest flowers fade away.? Why do the 
fairest visions vanish.?” 

“You ask questions that possibly suggest 
things beyond the reach of human philosophy; 
but after long years of meditation in solitude, 

I am convinced that those things are but vapors 
which for a time obscure the sunlight. Even 
in this life much of the sorrow that falls to the 
lot of humanity may be reasoned away. In 
this world, we only study the alphabet, in the 
great lesson of life, and it is not unreasonable 
to believe that as we ascend the scale of life, 
we shall know the true relation of those things, 
and appreciate the discipline of this lower state 
of existence. Deep down in mud and slime a 
germ developes into life, and soon above the 
crystal waters, the lily of the pond smiles in the 
sunlight, the fairest among ten thousand. ” 

“Let us hope that such will be the result of 


life. 


273 


“I am surprised at the possibility of human 
hope, when I consider what you have experi- 
enced. May I take the liberty to ask you what 
was your creed in early life?” 

“My creed in early life was pleasure. I 
paid no heed to those things in which men 
speculate, and little thought that there were 
sterner realities associated with life. The only 
creed that I have ever recognized is the one 
which has been formulated from nature’s revela- 
tions. 

“Our creeds should largely come from what 
we experience in the lessens of life.” 

“Would you condemn all forms of religious 
faith?” 

“No. A good life makes amends for a poor 
creed. Character and not creed makes the 
man.” 

“All forms of faith are good enough so long 
as men are good. Have you,” said Mr. Kam- 
man, “ever been troubled by the thought that 
after all, hope is a delusion and future life an 
empty dream?” 

“Such reflections in other years led me to 
the brink of despair. 

“Such belief is a night shade on the scene 
of life. If death ends all, human existence is 
indeed a stupendous mockery. If there is 


nothing beyond the grave, the power that called 
humanity upon the stage of life would be more 
desperately evil than the most highly magnified 
conception of blackest crime. 

‘ ‘If life is governed by such dark fatality, why 
speak to men of virtue and noble asparations.^ 

“During all of his career upon earth, man, 
prompted by an inner consciousness of some- 
thing higher, has been led on to noble aspira- 
tions, hoping and striving for a better home 
than this shore of mortality when life and death 
walk side by side. 

“Immortality is divinely stamped upon every 
human soul, and all this longing for higher 
things is but the natural affinity between the 
spiritual part of man and a kindred existence 
in the world unseen. It is spiritual gravitation.” 

Mr. Kamman and his daughter must now for 
a time remain inactive at the Nest, while we in- 
vite the reader to journey with us to look upon 
another scene which demands our attention at 
this stage of our history. 


©l]apter ^XlV- 

On the evening succeeding the adjournment 
of Judge Bragnio’s Court at Catfish Bottom, 
Devils Wigwam was brilliantly illuminated by a 
fire built in the center of the cavern. The waves 
of light that leaped upward from a huge pile of 
logs and brush penetrated the remotest corner of 
the cavern, and as they rose and fell, now start- 
ing, now crackling, now flickering and then 
bursting forth anew, in their fantastic irregularity 
threw transient, shadowy pictures upon the mas- 
sive walls, forming a weird panorama of fleeting 
phantoms. 

Kingsley and the gentleman from Bitter 
Creek were sitting with their comrades on one 
side of the fire; while on the other side sat the 
African fugitives. 

The war had evidently been, for the time, 
forgotten, for both Caucasian and African were 
in a state of great hilarity over the clownish 
antics of one of the ebony sons of the South^ 
who, having forgotten his recent adventures, was 


2/6 


making merry for his comrades in the true spirit 
of a reputed child of Ham. 

This festive creature of slavery was stand- 
ing in the midst of his sable comrades, gesticu- 
lating, singing, dancing, and swaying his slim, 
lithe form backward and forward in a manner 
that indicated the historic African, remembering 
nothing, feeling nothing, caring for nothing, and 
governed by nothing but present feelings. He 
was the genuine buffoon in his native element, 
the king of merriment holding his court, receiv- 
ing the homage of his vassals. 

This happy “coon” drew his claws along the 
bark of a small elm sapling, screeched the his- 
toric family screech, and after nimbly tossing in 
the air two objects that resembled a pair of sled 
runners, but upon a closer inspection might have 
been mistaken for feet, threw himself upon the 
ground amid the applause that greeted the en- 
tertainment. 

“Cato,” said Kingsley, “you seem to have 
forgotten your recent scare at the upper end of 
the gorge to-night. What about the devil that 
you claim to have seen up there .?” 

The grinning countenance of the African 
immediately assumed a different outline, and, 
although we cannot say, as the poets would, that 

a paleness that rivaled the “whiteness of a wind- 


277 


ing sheet” stole over his features, his spirits went 
down to zero, as he replied: “Seed de debbil 
shu dis time. Dar am no mistake. Dis ebenin’ 
I took de ole hoss-pistol an went out to splore 
de kentry. in sight ob de camp all de time. 
Had not gone fah up de gulch afore I run agin’ a 
sight dat jis done gone make ebery har on my 
head stan up as straight as de bristles ob a Car- 
liner hog. 

“Ise hearn ob fitin’ ’Zurians, screechen ghosts 
and singin’ debblis, but dis war de wurst sight I 
eber sot my peepers on. Dar ware ghosts down 
on the Santee ribber, at de ole plantation, but 
dis critter up huh in de gulch am jes de ole daddy 
debbil ob em all.” 

“Why did you not kill the creature with your 
dangerous pistol, Cato said Kingsley, 

“Praps I mought if hit had catched me, but 
jes de moment I seed um a waven ob hits bans 
and motionin for me to wait till hit could come 
to me, I pinted de ole hoss-pistol at um, tossed 
de heel in de air, and den dis coon was hard to 
find in dat end ob de gulch.” 

“A good soldier would not run without 
giving battle to the' enemy.” 

“Stay dar an git cotched, eh.? Can’t cotch 
er coon dat way. Yah ! Yah ! De feet am de 
only safe weepons ob wah.” 


2/8 


“What,” said Kingsley, “did the paternal 
devil appear to be ?” 

“Feared to be a debble, sah.” 

“What did he do or say ?” 

“Jes wave his han at me.” 

“What did you think he wanted ?” 

“Tink he wanted Cato, sah.” 

“How large was the object 

“He looked bout as big as a mountain and 
de eyes shined, sah^ like fire. Dar am nothin 
but debbles in dis kentry. ” 

“You should have gone up to your Satanic 
friend, and you would doubtless have discovered 
that he was nothing more than some hunter of 
these hills — perhaps an Indian.” 

“Whew,” said Cato, “jes bout er soon meet 
de debble as er howlin, hellabalooin Injun like 
derrt down by de ole cabin. 

“Tell you what, Capting Kingesly, dis am a 
hanted world. ELbery whar you go, ghosts 
’Zourians or debbles am suh to cross yo path.” 

“Some one of you colored men be so kind as 
to tell us a real ghost story,” said Kingsley, after 
Cato had finished his tale of adventure. “We 
want a real live ghost story, about the plantation 
ghost of the South.” 

“Tell you, Capting,” said Pompey, to whom 
Kingsley’s remarks had been indirectly address- 


279 


ed, “dar am too much truf in de ting to call hit 
a story.” 

“To be sure, Pompey, we want a true story» 
and we are now ready to listen to one from you.” 

After having waited for the crowd to collect 
around him as closely as practicable, Pompey 
commenced his tale, which was as follows : 

“ Hit was way down in ole Carliner, on de 
banks ob de Ronyoke, many yars ago, whar took 
place de suhcumstances ob which Ise now gwine 
to relate. 

“Ole Marse Spoonah owned a plantashing dat 
kivered mo dan fo hunder acres along de Ron- 
yoke, and had mo niggas sprinkled aroun on hit 
dan dar was on any odder place in de Souf. 

“Dis Marse Spoonah was one ob de fiercest 
slabe dribers dat eber popped a lash arown a 
nigga’s head. He had cum to dat kentry from 
de souf part ob Inderanner, and bought de 
pJantashing and niggas from ole Marse Rich, 
one ob de easy goin, good natered Massar, ob 
which dar was many sich in de states ob de Souf. 

“Marse Rich had been an easy driber, and 
de culled folkses ob de plantashing was er liven 
happy and bein’ well tuk care on as long as he 
war Marse, but jest as soon as Marse Spoonah 
tuk charge ob tings, de debble war to pay. Dar 
had neber been but one er two whuppins fah 


28 o 


back as Pompey can member in Marse Rich’s 
time, but aftah Ole Spoonah cum dar want 
nothun but whip, cut an slash aroun’ ’mong de 
slabes from mornin’ till night. Tings had been 
dat way on some ob de odder plantashings, but 
Marse Rich did not blebe in hit, and from de 
very fust whuppin in de reign ob Spoonah de 
culled folkses sot emselves agin him to do him 
ebil. Tings went on from bad to wuss. De 
whuppins growed hardah an’ so did de trets ob 
de slabes. 

“Jingo Jinkins war one ob de mos reckless, 
dare-debbil niggas dat eber libed. He war 
mighty sulkly like, an hit want long afo Ole 
Marse Spoonah begin ter hab Jingo whupped 
almos’ ebery day, and de mo’ de whuppin’, de 
mo’ sulky Jingo would git till at las’ one ob de 
mos’ drefful tings took place dat er body eber 
heah on. 

“Dar war on de plantashing a yallah gal dat 
had been Jingo’s wife an’ Ole Spoonah, sein as 
she war mos ’markable purty, took her from 
Jingo, praps a wantin’ her hisself. From dat 
time on dar war mo debbil in Jingo dan forty-fo 
mules could tote, an none on us war sprised 
when one mornin’ Marse Spoonah war foun’ down 
in de ole cotton huse, as dead as de debbil, or 
praps a little mo so. 


“Marse war layen on his back wid de face 
turned up to de roof, an’ when we foun’ him, he 
had scarcely quit kickin’. 

“Dar war two or free deep gashes on his 
face, from which de blood was still er runnin’, an’ 
one feahful cut on de top ob de head, which look 
like hit mought er been done wid er hoe er some 
sich weepon. 

“Twar de feahfulest sight dat a.libin’ bein’ 
eber seed. Dar he war layin’ wid de blood er 
runnin’ down ober de face, an’ de eyes er starin’ 
up at a body, as if de dead man war wantin’ to 
tell sumthin’. De officers held a ’quest over de 
co’pse, but nuffin cum ob hit, as no one knowed 
who war de murderer, ’ceptin,’ p’raps, de one dat 
did do hit. 

“Twant long afo’ a new Marse cum to de 
plantashing. ' , 

‘ ‘T’ings went on ’bout as befo’ ’cept dar wan’t 
so much ob de whuppin’. 

“Aftah er while hit war diskivered dat dar 
war someting wrong down ’bout de ole cotton 
house. No mo’ git some ob de niggas down in 
dar aftah sundown dan yer c’ud fly ter de moon 
wifout wings. 

“Some ob de culled folks had seed ole 
Marse Spoonah a walkin’ aroun’ de house in de 
moonlight, wif de blood a streamin’ down de face, 


282 


an’ sorter moanin’ like er pusson in great dis- 
turbance ob spirit. 

“At udder times de ole Marse had been seed 
down by de swamp er walkin back an’ forf along 
de sho’. den ag’in he had been seed er paddlin’ 
his canoe along de Ronyoke, an’ den disappear- 
in’ under de water. 

“Dar war scarcely er spot ’bout de planta- 
tion but what war ha’nted. De ghost war ebry 
whar, an alers a moanin’, wif de blood streamin’ 
down de face.” 

“Did you ever see it yourself, Pompey.^” 
interposed one of the company. 

“Dats de part lib de story at which I am 
now arriv. 

“Hit war well erlong in de cotton pickin’ 
time dat I seed de ghost fer de fust time, an’ by 
de help ob God, I nebber want to see sich er 
sight ag’in. 

“Jingo an’ myself war wu’ken in de ole 
house one ebenin’ aftah de rest ob de folks had 
gone to de cabins. ’Twar gittin’ late, an’, not 
carin’ to stay in a ha’nted house aftah sundown, 
we started fo’ de stairs to go down, but when we 
reached de do’, lawdy sakes! hit war shet an’ 
locked or bolted on de outside. By de hebens 
an’ yarth! Dar we war locked in de uppah room 
ob a ha’nted house, an’ nuffin’ could we fin’ stout 


283 


ernuff ter break down de do’ wif. We war dar 
to stay. De night come on wifout consultin’ de 
feelin’s ob any one. 

“Twar needer dark ner clear. De moon 
would peep out eber now an’ den from a hidin’ 
place bellin’ de clouds as ef she war a playin’ 
hide an’ seek wif de stars. De winds moaned 
an’ whistled fru de rickety ole house, an’ rattled 
an’ cavorted aroun’ ’mong de loose boads outside 
till we t’inked at times, d^t de hull army ob 
ghosts war out on a reg’lar rampant. 

“Jingo and myself, aftah findin’ dat we 
could not ’scape from de ha’nted buildin’, crawled 
down into a connah an’ try to make ourselves as 
sca’ce as possible. 

“Can’t tell jist what time hit war, mought 
er been midnight, an’ mought er been mo’. Any 
how it seemed dat we had been hidin’ in dar 
mos’ tree or fo’ hunder y’ars, when all ter onct 
we heah de wuss hellabelooin dat eber drapped 
on human years. De fust soun’ dat cum floatin’ 
on de ebenin’ aih war like as if dar war seberal 
pussbns er fitin, den dar war free er fo’ blows 
dat soun’ loudah dan de oders’ an’ a noise as if 
some one fall to de floah. Den dar war some 
ob de mos’ ghostly groanin’ det eber war. 

“De moon had jes look out from behin’ a 
a cloud, an’ frew a pale light inter de room. At 


284 


de fah end ob de room dar war a sight dat freeze 
de berry blood in us. 

“Dar, in de pale moonlight, jes as plain as 
eber yer seed er libin’ bein, stood ole Marse 
Spoonah, wif de gash on de head an’ de blood 
runnin down de face’ jes as nat’ral as we seed 
’em on de mornin’ dat he war killed. 

“De ghost fust go dis way an’ den dat, 
walkin’ roun’ an’ roun’, moanin’ in de moas piti- 
fulest way dat eber er ghost could moan. 

“Den hit seem to git er glimpse ob Jingo 
an’ myself, fer hit ’proach us sorter walkin’ in de 
aih as hit cum. Den hit would retiah to de ud- 
der end ob de room an walk roun’ an roun’. 

“Twar awful! De puspiration stan’ out on 
me in draps (?at seem as big as full size’sim- 
mons. 

“Jingo’s teef war er clatterin’, an his mouf 
er flyin’ open widah an’ widah till I war afeard 
dat he would swallah hisself. 

“Dar war ghosts unseen, er jinin’ in de hel- 
labeloo. At times de berry atmospheah seem 
tainted wif em. De buildin’ war er shakin’ like 
de tops ob er tall pine in a wind sto’m. 

“De ghost ob Spoonah kept prancin’ aroun’ 
de room, fust here an’ den dar, till at last hit 
walked Jup close to us an’ stood still, er lookin’ 
straight at Jingo Jinkins. 


285 


“By de great heabens! ’Twar feahful! Dar 
in free or fo’ feet ob us,wif de blood on his face, 
stood de ol’ man. 

“ ’Twar Marse Spoonah, shu as daram a Lawd 
en Heaben! 

“‘Jingo‘ said ol’ Marse, pointin’ his finger 
straight at ’em, ‘gib me back my life.’ 

“ ’Twar too much for flesh an’ blood tostan’. 

“Wif a wild scream of terrah Jingo started 
to run away, but he fell down upon de floah as 
limber as a niggar’s conshunse in a melon patch. 

“’Bout dat time Pompey tink dat hit war 
time for' him ter git out ob dar, so he made a 
gran’ rush for de doah, an’ aldo hit war still lock- 
ed, a niggar’s head am a good key, ’specially 
when de niggar am ’termined to git. 

‘ ‘Pompey smashed fru de doah, tore down de 
sta’rs, an’ picked hisse’f up pretty permiscuous as 
he loped across de cottonfiel’s to de cabins, to 
tell de Oder niggars ’bout Jingo an’ de ghost. 

“When mornin’ cum some ob de folks foun 
Jingo er wanderin’ roun’ fru de ol’ cotton house, 
in a sort o’ far away mannah, as if he sca’cely 
knowed if he war Jingo or some oder niggar. 

“He only lib a short time aftah datebenin’. 

“One mornin’^he foun’ hisse’f as dead as 
ol’ Spoonah eber dreamed ob bein’. Dar war 
de gashes on de head, jes as dar war on ol’ Marse. 

19 


286 


“De ghost ob Spoonah had been Venged 
on Jingo.” ' 

“Did you ever find out anything about the 
ghost.^ Were there any of Spooner’s friends 
about the plantation.^ Perhaps some of Spoon- 
er’s friends played ghost on Jingo to ascertain 
if he had committed the murder,” said Kingsley. 

“Played nuffin’.? De ghost war seed many 
a time aftah de night dat he ’peared to me an’ 
Jingo. . 

.“But stranger, dan all, many a time aftah 
de def ob Jingo he war seed by de niggars, some 
times down by de cotton house, sometimes er 
walkin’ roun fru de fiel’s, an’ sometimes down 
by de ribber, walkin’ on de water. , Sca’cely eb- 
er a night pass cept some ob de niggars see eder 
Jingo or ol’ Marse Spoonah, an’ bof ob dem al- 
ways had de gash on de head, wif de bloodier 
runnin’ down de face, an’ bof ob dem war er 
moanin’ an’ er moanin’ where eber dey went.” 

“These ghosts were all in the imagina- 
tion, Pompey,” said one of the party, who had 
all along manifested some skepticism in regard 
to the Spooner ghost. 

“’Magination nuffin! De ghost am as true 
as gospel, Ise seed many on ’em. Dey am eb- 
ery whar. De swamps ob de Rony'oke war 
alibe wif ’em.” 


287 


“The nig is right,” interposed the gentle- 
man from Bitter Creek. “I have seen ghosts 
myself, and me and Hi Wasson onct went with 
some other fellers and stayed all night in a 
ha’nted house, and I’m right here to tell you 
that it knocked me out of seven years’ growth.” 

“Too bad,” ejaculated Kingsley. “If you 
had not lost that seven years you might now 
be traveling with some circus, under the appel- 
lation of ‘The Big Man from Bitter Creek.’” 

How long this conversation might have 
continued is unknown, had it not been inter- 
rupted by a new act in the scene, which for a 
time awakened a more thrilling interest in the 
audience at Devil’s Wigwam than even Pomp- 
ey’s ghost story. 


I I 


' ' ' ? 

i;'.’ ;■» I . ,,, i ■ ■.. ^ ; 

■ ■* 01]0ipter ^XV/. 

’ '■ A cry' of terrific wildness rang- through the 
wigwam so shrill, so sudden and unexpected, that 
the inmates were- thrown into utmost confusion. 

From whence it came no one could accur- 
ately ascertain. 

• ’ It seemed to have originated somewhere 
on the cliffs of an adjacent bluff, but in the con- 
fusion the source from whence it came was as 
mysterious as its cause. 

Every inmate of the wigwam was in mute 
astonishment . 

Kingsley and the gentleman from Bitter 
Creek arose to their feet and looked inquiringly 
at each other but neither spoke. 

Pompey still sat in the position that he had 
occupied by the fire while relating the ghost sto- 
ry, with one hand slightly raised, mouth open, 
intently listening to the piercing scream, as it 
reverberated along the avenues of the cavern. 

Cato was sitting by the fire with his mouth 
ajar, both hands elevated above his head, and 



289 


eyes, which at another season of the year might 
have been mistaken for snowballs, apparently 
trying to escape and fly away. 

“Dat war hit! Dat war hit! Dat war hit! 
Shu, and no ’stake ’bouten hit!” exclaimed the 
African last named. 

‘•Was what.^ What do you mean.?” said 
Kingsley. 

“Dat war de scream ob de debbel. I see 
’im dis bery ebenin. Tell yer what, Capting 
Kinselly, dis am er ha’nted wo’ld. Pears dat 
dis wo’ld war made for ’Zourians, ghosts, and 
debbles.” 

Again was the scream repeated, and this 
time so keen and piercing, and apparently so 
close that it chilled the very blood of the start- 
led listeners. 

Although the mysterious noise seemed now 
to arise from the interior of the cavern, and 
every eye and ear was actively employed, no 
trace of the disturber could be discovered. 

“What do you pronounce it.?” said Kingsley, 
addressing the gentleman from Bitter Creek. 

“Haint got fur ’nuff ’long in the dicshunary 
to pronounce it nuthin’. Don’t make no effort 
to pronounce or explain nuthin’ in this kentry 
since I seen men and bosses prancin’ ’round in 
the air, but it may be what I onct heerd a edu- 


290 


cated Yankee call fernomeny.” 

The party remained anxiously listening after 
the echoes of the last shrill cry had died away 
in the remote recesses of the gorge. The stillness 
was broken by Cato and his sable companion, who 
rushed to the farther side of the cavern and hud- 
dled together, like sheep at the approach of the 
wolf. 

The Caucasians were scarcely less startled, 
for within a few feet of the fire stood an Indian 
in the full dress and armor of the western plain. 
He stood looking into the fire, apparently disre- 
garding the movements around him. 

How had he reached the camp unperceived.? 

Easily answered by any one familiar with 
the habits of the warrior of the frontier. 

“The friend of the Long Rifle is always 
welcome in the camp of the white man,” said 
Kingsley, attempting to immitate the language 
that he had commonly heard addressed to the 
Indians by the oflicers and others on the frontier. 

“What brings Wampawara to the camp of 
his brothers.?” 

“Wampawara brings tidings to the young 
chief of the palefaces.” 

“And almost scared some black palefaces 
white,” said the gentleman from Bitter Creek, 
casting a glance at the African Colony across 
the Cave. 


29 


“Why in the name of Sam Hill or anybody 
else did you come into our camp with sich a in- 
fernal hollerin’ Ingun? 

“You sheered Capt. Kingsley nigh bout into 
histories, and another sich whoop would turn 
Cato and the other niggers whiter than ghosts.” 

The Indian made no reply, but stood silent- 
ly gazing into the fire. Again an unearthly 
scream came ringing down the gorge. 

“May be as the nig says. May be the 
devil. It haint nothin’ human.” 

Kingsley made no reply to the Bitter Creek 
gentleman, but turned inquiringly to Wampaw- 
ara. 

“It is the cry of a panther of the hills,” said 
Wampawara. 

“A painter! a painter!” exclaimed the Hoo- 
sier! “’Tis the fust one I’ve heerd since four 
years ago, when a stray one cams up Bitter 
Creek,’ and chased me and Hi Wasson for 
two miles through the woods one night when 
we was out a coon hunting. Shant be afeerd 
to run agin a painter, but don’t want to run 
agin no devil or ghost. 

“A good aim, a little burnt powder, an’ its 
all up with Mister Painter, but would be differ- 
ent with Mister Ghost. Might ’bout as well shoot 
at a shadder.” 


292 


“Yes, Joe,” said Kingsley, “for your ghost 
i^ only a shadow in the imagination.” 

“Don’t know ’bout that. Haint sure. If 
you, captain, had seed all that Ive seed in the 
ghost line, you would change your mind.” 

“What has brought the Kanza chief again 
to our camp.?” said Kingsley, again addressing 
the Indian. Wampawara beckoned Kingsley 
and the Hoosier aside and thus addressed them; 

“The palefaces at their village on the 
Muddy River will meet in council when the Sun 
is low over the western hills. They seek the 
life of the great medicine man of their nation. 

“When the sun is again low, the decree 
will go out that he must die. The Long Rifle 
is far away' and knows it not. Wampawara 
came to bring the tidings to the young chief of 
the palefaces that the great medicine man might 
not die. The palefaces of the Muddy River are 
men of the evil Spirit. Their hands are bathed 
in blood. They will shed more. My young 
brother is a warrior, and no one need tell him 
how to act. 

“The great medicine man is a friend of the 
Long Rifle. He must not die. It is enough. The 
paleface has heard. He will be wise.” Having 
thus spoken, the Kanza folded his blanket 
closely around himself, walked noiselessly away 


293 


and soon disappeared in the shadow of the 
gorge. 

The citizens of Calhoun returned from Cat- 
fish Bottom, after Judge Bragnio’s Court had 
been adjourned, determined to visit their dis- 
pleasure upon the first victim that fell into their 
power. 

Dr. Byron continued to practice his profes- 
sion at the Pro-Slavery head quarters. Ever 
since the memorable trial at the Hotel de Mason 
Dr. Byron had been under suspicion, and as spies 
had been employed to watch him, the suspicions 
were soon confirmed. Bill Posey selected a 
posse from his confederates and went to Dr. By- 
ron’s office, accompanied by Mr. Theopholis 
Spilkins. They found the doctor in consultation 
with a stranger. The stranger was a man of 
five and forty years of age. 

He had been seen around town several 
times during the past week, but no one knew 
anything about him, and no one had manifested 
any special desire to inquire into his anteced- 
ents, but now having been found in council 
with the supposed spy, he at once became an 
object of intense interest. 

“Pve seed that cuss somers,” said Posey, 
addressing Mr. Spilkins. 

‘ ‘There seems to be something familiar abou 


294 


him, but I cannot say positively that I have met 
him before, although I think that I have.” 

The conversation was interrupted by Dr. By- 
ron giving the stranger a small bottle containing 
medicine, at ’least it was labeled “quinine.” 

’’Been havin’ the ager, eh.?” 

“Thar be lots on it round here,” said Posey, 
addressing the stranger. 

“Yes,” said the stranger. “There’s a heap 
’o ager around. I’ve been in the kentry only a 
week, but durin’ that time I’ve shook so hard 
that the soles came off of my boots.” * 

“Whar do you hail from.? Ingiany.? Tick- 
lish times out here,” said Posey, as the stranger 
left the room, replying in the affirmative as he 
went out. 

“Watch him. Bill. Keep an eye on the 
cuss,” whispered Spilkins as the stranger walked 
slowly down the street. 

Two men was dispatched to follow the foot- 
steps of the stranger. The other followers of 
Posey were summoned within the office of Dr. 
Byron. 

“Doctor,”said Spilking, “we have been order- 
ed by the authorities to place you under arrest. It, 
is an unpleasant duty, and although the charges 
are of a serious character, we hope that you 
will be able to prove your innocence, but 


295 


duty is duty and law is law.” 

“What charges.^ I do not understand you.’’ 

“You,” said Spilkins, “are charged with 
treason. It is now commonly reported that you 
are a spy in the service of the demon, Brown; but 
as I said before, I hope that you will be able to 
prove your innocence, for, be assured that you 
shall have a fair and impartial trial.” 

“Like the trial granted the Rev. Mr. Kam- 
man, by His Honor, Judge Bragnio at Catfish 
Bottom,” said the doctor, smiling. 

Mr. Spilkins colored slightly, for there were 
associations connected with Judge Bragnio’s 
court, by no means pleasing to the memory of 
this chivalrous son of South Carolina. 

“You would insinuate that Mr. Kamman 
did not have a fair trial.^” 

“Certainly not. I only asked if my trial 
would resemble his.” 

“You are a traitor,” said the gentle- 

man from South Carolina, slightly' losing his 
temper. You practice under an assumed name. 
Your real name is Realfe — Richard Realfe. 

“A clergyman from Louisville once saw you 
at Five Points, before you came west. He is 
now in Calhoun, and will appear against you at 
the trial.” 

“Consider yourself under arrest,” said Mr. 


296 


Spilkins, stepping toward Dr. Byron. A pistol 
report rang through the room. Mr. Spilkins 
fell heavily to the floor, and the recent occupant 
darted out the door and dashed rapidly down 
the street. 

Posey and his companions quickly congre- 
gated around the prostrate Spilkins. 

“Is he hurt! Is he dead! Did the aboli- 
tionist finish him.^” 

“Stand back, boys, and give him air!” “Run 
for Colonel Higgins,” were some of the exclama- 
tions that went up from the crowd. 

“Some feller run fer the doctor,” said Posey, 
as he dashed a pail of water full in the face of the 
prostrate Spilkins. 

“The doctor would be a little hard to find 
just at this point,” said a bystander. “He 
went down the street as if he was in a hurry.” 

Mr. Spilkins opened his mouth and then his 
eyes and looked dreamily around the room. 

“Examine him. Bill,” said Col. Higgins, 
who had reached the scene of disturbance. 

“Your grand-pap was a fisican, and mebby 
the thing runs in the family.” 

Posey removed the outer garments from the 
body of the wounded man, who lay groaning as 
if in terrible agony. “Good bye. Colonel,” said 
Mr. Spilkins, extending his trembling hand. 


297 


“Good bye, Bill, and the rest of the boys.” 

“I am going this time. I feel the life blood 
running from my body.” 

With tears in his eyes Col. Higgins grasp- 
ed the proffered hand of the “dying man,” and 
the spectators looked on with all that solemn 
homage that humanity always pays to death. 
Mr. Spilkins closed his eyes, released the hand 
of Col. H., and was apparently just launching 
his frail boat on the dark river, when all present 
were startled by an exclamation from Posey. “Is 
he dead. Bill .?” queried many eager voices. 
“Dead!” exclaimed the Sheriff, holding up for 
inspection a tin flask in which a small bullet was 
sticking, having penetrated one side and lodged 
in the other. 

“Worse than death. Spilkins aint hurt, but 
he has let that tarnal doctor waste a quart of as 
good whisky as ever came revenue free from the 
mountains of old Kanetuc.” 

“Let no one ever hint agin,” said Colonel 
Higgins, “ that a man aint never saved by whisky. 
Now if the Major hadn’t had that ar flask of 
likker whar would he ov been ? Tell you, boys, 
thar be a special Providence in likker. I’ve seed 
it more en onct. Yes siree, a special Providence 
in likker.” 

Discovering that he was neither dead nor 


298 


dying, Mr. Spilkins arose, donned again the 
garments that Sheriff Posey had removed in the 
post-mortem, and bitterly denounced the doctor 
for ruining the flask, and wasting, as he ex- 
pressed it, “the valuable contents.” 

By this time the news of Mr. Spilkin’s mis- 
fortune and Dr. Byron’s escape had spread all 
over Calhoun, and the inhabitants had collected 
rapidly at the scene of disturbance. 

In the confusion that resulted from the melee 
in which “Major” Spilkins had lost his spirits. 
Dr. Byron had made his escape from the town, 
and was soon beyond danger of immediate 
capture by his recent fellow townsmen. 

Having reached the bluffs that lay to the 
westward, he paused to deliberate upon his 
future course. 

In his hurried departure from Calhoun the 
doctor had passed by his hotel and taken with 
him a small carpet bag, which he had left in his 
room. 

By the aid of some tonsorial instruments 
w'hich the bag contained, a wig and some im- 
mensely long artificial whiskers. Dr. Byron was 
soon transformed from a dark complexioned 
young man of five and twenty into 'a blonde who 
had apparently passed the meridian that marks 
the noon-time of life. 


299 


“Superb!” exclaimed the young man, after 
surveying his outlines in a small pocket glass. 
“Don’t even know who I am, myself.” 

“Praps I can help you to figger it out,” ex- 
claimed a voice behind him. 

To draw his pistol and turn upon the in- 
truder was for Byron but the work of a moment. 

Within a few feet of him stood the stranger 
smiling and apparently unmoved, although the 
same weapon that had caused the exit of 
Major Spilkins’ spiritual life was pointed directly 
at his breast. 

“Don’t be a pintin’ that English pop-gun at 
me. Doc. The blasted thing might go off and 
waste a load of powder, and I’m of the opinion 
as we will need all the powder we’ve got.” 

Byron lowered his pistol, for notwithstand- 
ing a change in dress, and personal appearance, 
even rivaling his own, he recognized the voice 
of the stranger who had left his office at Calhoun 
that morning. “Hello 1 Skaggs. Did not expect 
you here.” 

“ Often go where I’m neither expected nor 
welcome,” said Skaggs, laughing. 

The sun had reached the western slope, and 
as nightfall slowly approached, Byron and 
Skaggs wended their way toward Catfish Bottom., 

Their footsteps were directed toward the 


300 


famous inn of Josh Mason, where, as the pro- 
prietor had expressed it on his rudely printed 
sign-board, the “ hungry are et, the weery are 
rested, an the dry are drunk.” 

‘^The Hotel de Mason,” said Byron as they 
walked leisurely toward that border mansion, 
will be just the place for us to gain our much 
desired information. The cream of chivalry 
will all be out in the search after us. and as they 
invariably stop at the Mason House, we must be 
in early enough to secure quarters. If we are on 
time, we can buy the privilege of sleeping on a 
board in the loft, that is if we are disposed to pay 
the regular price for boarding over night — two 
dollars for a board.” 

“I’m not carin’ ’bout the sleepin’ part,” said 
Skaggs, “but I’m hungry ’nuff to eat a mule, 
’pears to me.” 

“Then a cup of Aunt Jinsey’s vigorous cof- 
fee, and a plate of her hominy will revive you. ’’ 

The pedestrians had now reached the trees 
that surrounded the Mason House. Suddenly 
their ears were greeted by an unearthly confu- 
sion of sounds, and from every corner of the 
fence, and from within the house, came a hound, 
barking, or rather bawling, vehemently. 

The next instant the red shirt, waving hair 
and flowing beard of Josh Mason appeared on 
the scene. 


301 


“Git out, Trailer! Go back, Fife! Down, 
Howler! Stop ’er Tenor! Hold up, Rowler! 
Be gone, Drumm!” 

Mr. Mason enforced his admonitions by 
hurling a chair at Trailer, throwing a frying pan 
at Howler, and finally succeeded in fireing a boot- 
jack with great momentum against the ribs of 
the unfortunate Drumm, and sent him around 
the house with a terrific roar. Drumm was 
speedily followed by his companions, who had 
been taught by long experience that it was now 
time to withdraw from the field, and smil- 
ing with much composure, Mr. Mason welcomed 
his guests thus: “Come in, gentlemen! Come in* 
The dorgs won’t bite. They git a leetle rolicky 
some times, an’ I haft t’ tune ’em down. 

“Heerdthe latest, gents.?” said the landlord, 
as he drew out from a corner of the house a stout- 
ly fashioned bench upon which he invited the 
guests to be seated. 

“News! News! War! Abolitionists! Spy! 
Hell and everything else!” 

“The Abolitionist doctor who took the boys 
^n so purty down to Calhoun is now a roamin’ 
’bout the kentry a seekin as who he may et up, 
as the scripter ses, and the hull vercinity of 
Calhoun is out a sarchin’ fer ’im an’ some spicious 
cuss as has been hangin’ ’roun’ fer a week or sich 
matter, 


20 


302 


“The boys ’ll be here to-nig-ht, and if you 
have never met up with jolly fellers afore, you’ll 
do it to-night.” 

“We are strangers in this country,” Byron 
replied. “We have been here but three days. 
We have traveled from Florida, during the past 
month, and of course know nothing of the coun- 
try or happenings here.” 

“Names.^ gents, Names.? I alers. wants the 
larKees that stops at this shebang to know one 
an’ t’other” 

“This,” said Byron, glancing toward Skaggs, 
“is Mr. Shakespeare. My name is Robin Hood.” 

“Shakespeare! Shakespeare! Lemme see,” 
said the landlord, in a half musing manner, ‘ ‘’Pears 
like I’ve hearn o’ Shakespeare. Seems I hearn 
he was dead. ’Taint no oncommon thing, how- 
sumever, to hear most anybody ’s dead in these 
parts. 

“Onct when I was down to Lewyville, I 
went with some of the boys to attend some kind 
of a cirkis which they said had been got up by 
Shakespeare. Somehow I had run agin’ the opin- 
ion that he was dead. I guess he wont, though. 

“Tell you what, stranger, you got up that 
business in tip top order, but thar was one thing 
that riled me, and that was, that blarsted nigger 
cutten up his monkey shines around that white 


303 


gal. When it got to that pint, I drawed my 
pistol, and would have shot the cuss, if some fel- 
ler wearin’ big stars had not hustled me from 
the buildin’. 

“I’ve also hearn of you, Mr. Robin Hood. 
My uncle Jake uster tell me that I alius went roun’ 
Robin Hood’s barn to do my work. I s’pose you 
must hav a purty big barn, Mr. Hood. 

“Say, do you remember Jake Mason.-^ my 
uncle Jake.^ He was squint-eyed, hook-nosed, 
and yaller-headed. I’m sure he must have know- 
ed you, for I’ve hearn him speak o’ you often.’ 

After having assured the host that Jake 
Mason had faded from his memory, the doctor 
and his distinguished literary friend went out 
to survey the surroundings, before the guests 
should be summoned to partake of Aunt Jinsey’s 
famous coffee. 

In about one hour the guests of the Hotel 
de Mason were summoned to their evening’s re- 
past by a vigorous tooting of a large hunting 
horn, which was held in the capacious mouth of 
Jack, one of the heirs of the House of Mason. 

The host stood at the door of the dining 
apartment, and introduced his guests as they 
filed in. 

• Imagine Mr. Hood’s surprise when he con- 

fronted Major Spilkin.s, whom he had left, as he 


304 

had supposed, to think of things spiritual, instead 
of things that pertain to earth. 

“Major Spilkins, ” said thi host, these fel- 
lers are Bob Hood and Mr. Shakespeare. They 
are larkees of the right stripe.” 

After having formally introduced his guests, 
the landlord dropped himself into a chair, and 
invited the others to (using his own language/, 
“foller suit.” Few of the guests had an oppor- 
tunity to “drop themselves into chairs”, but sub- 
stituted the long puncheon benches that had 
been placed in Heu thereof. 

Mr. Spilkins sat by the side of “Robin 
Hood,” little dreaming when or under what cir- 
cumstances he had before met the gentleman 
who bore the name of the once renowned king 
of Sherwood Forest. 

The guests were soon engaged in a vigor- 
ous attack upon the table — an attack which, 
in consideration of its gastronomic dangers, 
might for its daring heroism have been likened 
to the famous “Charge of the Light Brigade,” 

In the center of the table a mountain of 
corn bread reared its summit high above the sur- 
rounding plain. At the base of the mountain 
stood a large earthen dish in which the contents 
of an unfortunate swine’s outer walls lay in huge • 
piles in a lake of grease. A crock of hominy 


305 

and the famous coffee completed the viands visi- 
ble on the table. 

After a minute survey of the lake, Major 
Spilk'ins turned to Hood with a significant look 
as he said: 

“Were you ever in Greece.^” 

Something within the poetic nature of the 
namesake of Sherwood’s, merry king prompted 
him to reply in the language of England’s great- 
est bard, as he glanced at the numerous islands 
peering above the depths of the transparent 
billows, and in all probability alluding to the 
fate of the unfortunate porker, he answered thus: 

“Thou art gone, thou art gone from thy native shore. 

Thou art grease; but living grease no more.” 

Thinking, perhaps, that his guest’s effusion 
was aimed as a humorous compliment to theboun- 
tiful supply of the Hotel de Mason, the landlord^ 
opened his ample mouth and laughed vocifer- 
ously, and was imitated by a majority of the 
guests, who evidently believed that something 
humorous had been said, although what, they 
knew not. 

“’Lasses Jake! ’lasses Jake! Pass the ’lass- 
es,” said the host, with a commanding glance at 
the youthful heir of the house of Mason, who 
was pulling the ears of Howler in one corner of 
the room. 


3o6 


The young gentleman responded to the pa- 
ternal call by giving the ears of Howler a vigor- 
ous twist, sending him out of the room with a 
roar that might have gladdened the heart of a 
Bengal tiger, and, going to one corner of the 
room, seized a large black jug by the handle and 
commenced a circuit of the table, stopping be- 
hind each of the guests with the following inter- 
rogation: 

“’Lasses, stranger?” 

Some of the strangers took ’lasses and some 
took none. Robin Hood and Mr. Shakespeare 
took ’lasses. In response to their affirmative to 
his question, the young squatter prince proceed- 
ed to pour into their plates a copious shower of 
something which might have passed for either 
sorghum or tar, with many circumstantial evi- 
dences in favor of the latter. 

“Them be ’lasses of my own makin’. Mister 
Hood. What do you think of ’em?” said the land- 
lord. 

“Delicious! delicious!” exclaimed Robin, as 
he, with much difficulty, succeeded in swallow- 
ing a roll of the sticky sweetness (?) which had 
almost cemented his glistening incisors into one 
compact mass. 

Again the landlord laughed. 

The guests laughed. There was merriment 


307 


all ’round the board. 

The reader may, and will probably, fail to 
discover the cause. There must, however, have 
been a cause for this merriment, for Americans 
never laugh unless they are tickled. 

“Tell yer what’s what, Meester Hood, this 
are the kentry of kentrys. It are a land flowin’ 
with milk an’ honey.” 

“Meester” Hood thought grease and “’lasses” 
would express it more clearly, but he did not 
think it aloud. 

“Hi yi! Jake, you lazy devil, fill Meester 
Shakesmear’s cup, and ten’ to yer business hur 
or I’ll take you by the year, as the parson sez, an’ 
lead yer down by the still waters, an’ make yer 
waller in green pasters.” 

With a “knowing” wink at several of the 
guests, and face immersed in a fresh inundation 
of grins. Prince Jacob swaggered up to Mr. 
Shakespeare, and from an immense kettle, poured 
a stream of the steaming liquid into a tin cup 
which the namesake of the great bard of Strat- 
ford-on-Avon held up to receive the dark effu- 
sion. 

Some of the liquid fell into the cup, and 
some of it fell upon the hands and lower extrem- 
ities of Mr. Shakespeare, causing that gentle- 
man to drop the vessel and draw hastily back 


3o8 


from the table, rub his afflicted members, and 
indulge in remarks neither religious nor poetic. 

“Hi yi oh! thar, you awkered yaller-headed 
cuss!” exclaimed the landlord, as he hung the 
dangerous kettle in its native element over the 
fire, grasped the royal young offender by the 
collar of his linsey shirt, and, after churning 
him up and down until his teeth fairly rattled, 
sent him from the room. 

“That thar young devil,” exclaimed the 
irate namesake of Israel’s great general, “will 
break up the hull hotel business unless sumthin’ 
is done with him. He takes his cussedness after 
his mammy’s people.” 

“Aunt Jinsey” took the place of the young 
squatter prince as engineer of the coffee pot, 
and the repast was finished without any other 
incident worthy of mention. 

It is now night. The tallow candles flared 
and flickered in the Hotel de Mason, as their 
pale, uncertain light shone in the dining apart- 
ment of that border inn. 

Every vestige of the recent meal had been 
removed, and the host and his guests were en- 
engaged in an occupation far removed from the 
gastronomic. 

Around the table, around benches, and even 
around stools placed in the center of the room, 


309 


were groups of men busily engaged in the favor- 
ite game of the border — seven-up. 

Robin Hood and the host were pitted against 
Messrs. Spilkins and Posey. Mr. Shakespeare 
did not play, but passed from one group to an- 
other, busily engaged in picking up what inform- 
ation regarding the movements of the Calhoun 
party he could gain from the conversation of the 
knights of the paste-board. 

The refractory Jake had been reinstated, 
and with many grins and divers grimaces, was 
making his rounds among the guests. He car- 
ried a large jug — first cousin to the ’lasses jug — 
from which he poured a liquid stream hardly so 
dark as the ’lasses, but equally dangerous to the 
peace and quietude of the inner man. 

“ Hur Jake ! Hur my larkee ! This way 
with the jug. Yer paps lost the likker, and the 
boys shall have ther due. Drink, gentlemen, 
drink. She’s the straight stuff. Bought ’er my- 
self afore I left old Misery. Cuss me if I ever 
beg agin when I hold the jack an deuce. Weuns 
mout a bin out and won the likker ourselves, 
Meester Hood, if hit hadn’t been for my reskin’ 
the beg. 

“Jakey, my boy, never beg when you hold 
the jack an deuce of trumps. No ! no ! Jakey, 
that thar very deed lost yer pap the likker.” 


310 


Having delivered this advice to the youth- 
ful heir of the house of Mason, the landlord filled 
the tin-cup with the' contents of the jug, raised 
his head, closed his eyes and drank the liquid 
with an aptitude that clearly demonstrated that 
he was no novice with the cup. 

The companions of the host were not slow 
to comply with his admonition to “ foller suit” 
and having each “ tipped the vessel,” the game 
went merrily on. 

“ Hi-lo-Jack-and the game sure as I hope 
to be an angel !” exclaimed the landlord, throw- 
ing his last card upon the table in a manner that 
indicated the depth of his hilarity. 

“Jakey! This way with the jug, Jakey. 
Yer pap has won the likker.” 

With a fresh inundation of grins, the golden 
haired youth appeared at the table — jug in one 
hand and cup in the other. 

“Tip er Jakey! Tip er. Pour out the 
glorious stuff an mark er down agin Major 
Spilkins. For, Jakey, the Major lost by beggin’ 
when he had one sure pint and good suit. Never 
do it, Jakey, never do it. Let a sure thing alone 
and trust to your partner. It will never do for 
a four-handed game. But tip er, boy, tip er, the 
gentlemen are gittin’ dry.” 

Jakey did “tip er.” In removing the cob 


stopper from the neck of the jug, he gave a sud- 
den pull, and the cob slipping more easily than 
he anticipated, a goodly portion of the extract 
was dashed upon the person of Major Spilkins. 
Perhaps prompted by past experience, the youth 
dodged to one side, and threw up his hands as 
if he would avert the parental storm which in the 
course of human events seemed likely to follow. 

When his hands went up, the jug went 
down, and with the fleetness of an antelope, 
Jakey bounded from the room. The young man 
made his exit none too soon, for just as he flash- 
ed like a meteor through the half open door, an 
immense cowhide boot swung with great velocity 
across the doorway, and missing its intended 
mark, it landed with great momentum against 
the door facing. The boot contained the phal- 
anges of Josh, the landlord, and, gentle reader, 
there was heard in that house language which 
must not be repeated in this history. 

The broken jug lay upon the floor, and 
the last remnants of its spirits were making an 
exit through the openings between the punch- 
eons. 

Like a picture of despair, Mr. Mason sat 
down and viewed the wreck, and petted his sore 
toes. 

“ That blasted boy has broke the jug, broke 


312 


my foot, and spilt three quarts of as straight out 
happiness as a body ever swallered. 

“ Well, boys,” said the host, after a long and 
sullen silence, during which time he was prob- 
ably musing upon the vanity of human life, “hits 
proberly time to ‘rare and tare,’ seein’ the likker 
is all gone an’ not a drap can be had short o’. 
Calhoun. 

“ Hits not wuth our while to stay up longer 
fur thar can be no fun when thars no likker.” 

Gentle reader, should it happen that you 
are not familiar with the lore and phraseology 
of the ‘ ‘ wild and woolly west,” you may question 
the meaning of the landlord’s “rare and tare.’’ 
Being interpreted, in plain old English it would 
read thus : “Go to bed.” 

Mr. Mason went to the door and called 
loudly for “Jakey. ” 

Jakey still retained fresh in his memory a 
vision of cowhide boots, etc., and refused to 
respond. “Aunt Jinsey” answered the call and 
soon appeared, holding in her hands a half dozen 
tallow candles which she gave to “Josh.” 

Mr. Mason placed the candles in cans, cups 
or whatever he could find to answer for “candle- 
sticks,” and invited the guests to follow him up 
stairs. 

The host ascended a ladder which led to an 


313 


upper apartment in the Hotel de Mason. Major 
Spilkins, Posey, Shakespeare, and Robin Hood 
filed up the ladder after him. 

This portion of the Mason house consisted 
of one large room. When the guests reached 
the upper floor, they found scattered around pro- 
miscuously a half dozen beds, or to use the 
language of the host, “bunks.” The bunks con- 
sisted of a single blanket spread upon the floor, 
with an elevation at one end for a pillow. The 
bunks were wide enough for two or even three 
sleepers in case of a crowd at the Mason House. 

There were already several disciples of 
Morpheus in the apartment. In one corner the 
fat traveler lay upon his couch, his rosy nose 
towering high in the lamplight, mouth open, 
sending forth an unearthly tumult which might 
have been easily mistaken for stray notes from 
the trumpet of Gabriel. In another corner a 
new- arrival in the land, a- soon-to-be-squatter- 
sovereign with his wife and dog — an impudent, 
woolly little King Charles Spaniel, were sleeping 
the sleep of the just. 

In another bed was a woman and four 
children. The lady had come to Kansas to 
join her husband who was located somewhere 
on the Winding Serpent, and was waiting for 
him to meet her at this point. 


314 


“Thar be the bunks, larkees, fall in to suit 
yer selves, two to a bunk.” Placing a candle 
near the “bunk,” the host withdrew, leaving 
the guests to the charms of Morpheus, mid hap- 
py dreams. 

Messrs. Spilkins and Posey “fell in togeth- 
er.” Robin Hood and he with the literary name 
occupied the same bunk. 

Having extinguished their candles, and af- 
ter Mr. Posey had exhausted a vast accumula" 
tion of profanity upon the Spaniel which for sev- 
eral minutes had been barking vehemently, the 
guests were wrapped in silence and woolen 
blankets. 

Through ample openings in the clapboard 
roof, the inmates of the sleeping apartment of 
the Mason house were enabled to survey the 
starry sky. Far away in the incomprehensive 
depths of space, myrids of glittering stars twink- 
led like so many blazing diamonds in the pinna- 
cles of heaven. 

“Pretty good observatory,” said Robin 
Hood, after Posey had again succeeded in cursing 
the Spaniel into silence. “When the landlord 
built this house he must have taken into con- 
sideration the pleasure of his guests in thus pro- 
viding such ample facilities for studying as- 
tronomy.” 


315 


Mr. Posey ‘‘reconed” that “Josh” mought er 
built the shanty in the interest of asteronomy, 
but he reckoned that he “ hardly built hit for a 
sleeping room for a gol durned dog.” 

At this juncture, after giving some extra 
flourishes upon his nasal trumpet, the fat travel- 
er rolled over .in his bed, groaned and muttered 
something about people as “can’t let a body 
sleep.” 

The consort of the soon-to-be-squatter, 
shrieked, “burglars and murder,” whereupon the 
King Charles again set up a most vigorous bark- 
ing; the children all commenced to cry as if 
each one was determined to drown the voice of 
the other, or perish in the attempt; and as a climax 
to the babble, Mr. Posey was again hurling 
great thunderbolts of profanity at the clamor- 
ous canine, which, like the famous ghost, “would 
not down.” 

Finally quietude was restored. The soon- 
to-be-squatter had succeeded in quieting his 
spouse, and the spouse had quieted King Charles 
by taking him in her arms and placing her hand 
firmly over his nose. 

After a vast quantity of growling, muttering 
and denunciation of almost everything connect- 
ed with this vale of mortality, the fat traveler 
again resigned himself to the care of Morpheus. 


3i6 


Some sweet meats from a hand sachel soon 
quieted the royal young squatters and soon all 
was still throughout the sleeping palace of the 
Hotel de Mason. 

Robin Hood had just embarked into slum- 
ber when the stillness of the room was again 
broken by: 

“Hellfire! Wildcats! Lightnin’l Painters! 
Grizzly bears! Sarpents! an’ catamounts! I’m 
bit by a dadburnd rattle snake or my name haint 
Bill Posey!” 

The startled sleepers saw, by the aid of the 
dim star light, the outline of the Missourian sit- 
ting up in his bed, gesticulating, rubbing him- 
self vehemently. 

While the King Charles barked, the chil- 
dren screamed, and the fat traveler groaned, Mr. 
Posey proceeded to light a candle, by the aid of 
which he hoped to make an attack upon his un- 
seen foe. 

“They be nearly as big as buzzards, an’ 
thar be one hundred thousand an’ nine of ’em,” 
said the sheriff, as he made a series of attacks 
upon the enemy. 

Nearly all the inmates of the sleeping pal- 
ace had been moving about uneasily in their 
beds, but Mr. Posey was first to divine the cause 
of the disturbance. 


317 


“What is it!” “What have you found?” ex- 
claimed several voices from the bunks, while 
King Charles barked, the children screamed and 
the fat traveler groaned. 

“Bugs! Bugs!! Bed bugs!” exclaimed 
William, as he alternately scratched his ribs and 
cursed King Charles. 

At the mention of “bugs,” everybody 
“scratched.” 

“Are you seriously injured. Bill,” said Mr. 
Spilkins, feeling humorous. 

Scarcely had Mr. Spilkins spoken,^ when he 
sprang from the bed, prompted by the incisors 
of a corpulent bug, and at the same time giving 
vent to some remarks, the piety of which might 
have been questioned. 

“Are you seriously injured, Major.^” said 
Mr. Posey, whose “turn” it was to feel humor- 
ous. 

Major Spilkins made no reply, but com- 
menced a critical examination of the bunk. 

“I could never before understand,” said Po- 
sey, “why the tarnel hole up hur give our ticket 
sich a rousin’ majority, but hits all plain now; 
they jest counted the bed bugs in makin’ the re- 
turns. 

“Pm in fur havin’ the name of this ere place 
changed from Catfish Bottom to ‘Bug Holler.’ ” 

2X 


. ^ During all this time the King Charles bark- 
ed, the children cried, and the fat traveler, hav- 
ing arrived at the conclusion that he had been; 
bitten, groaned, muttered, denounced the bugs, 
and ciissed the American Congress for opening 
Kansas for settlement, declaring- that between 
“dogs, younguns, bitin’ bugs and screaming wo- 
men,” he never expected to see the “blessed 
light of another day.” 

; A general crusade was instituted against 
the bugs. Everybody “went a bug huntin ” 

• The hynt was eminently successful, and 
- many w^re the unfortunate bugs that fell victims 
to the .merciless slaughter. 

The, crusaders critically examined every 
garment and every piece of bed clothing. Even 
the fat traveler “got a move on himself,” and 
hunted bugs and swore. ' 

After a long, uncertain conflict, the bugs 
were conquered, and quiet was again restored all 
along the line. The King Charles was sleeping 
sweetly in the arms of his mistress; some sweet- 
meats and paregoric had quelled the disturbance 
among the children; and the fat traveler, having 
routed the “blasted varmints,” as he in a “par- 
oxism of rage” had so denounced the bugs, was 
again sleeping, but not quietly, at least he re- 
mained quiet only a short time. 


319 


Soon the trumpet was working away mer- 
rily, but although its racket might have been 
easily mistaken for the snorting of the famous 
bulls of Bashan, the somewhat tired inmates of 
the sleeping palace slept despite the confusion. 

Just how long peace and quietude reigned 
in the Hotel de Mason none of the inmates 
knew. They had, however, not been slumbering 
long when they were startled from their happy 
dreams by something more appalling than 
screaming spouses, colicky children, and barking 
spaniels. 

A vivid streak of flame darted downward 
from a dark cloud which had suddenly overspread 
the earth, and struck an oak that stood only a 
few yards from the hotel with a force that 
shivered it from branch to root. 

The bed room of the Mason House was 
filled with a light so keen and piercing that in- 
mates were almost blinded by its intense glare. 

Apparently simultaneously with the flash 
was a tremendous crash that seemed to shake 
the very earth, causing the house to tremble like 
a storm-rocked ship on the waves of the sea. 

Then came another crash, more . terrific 
than the first. Then another — and still another. 
Crash followed crash, until it seemed that the 
gods were hurling great bolts of “flame enven- 


320 


omed” wrath at the Hotel de Mason. The ele- 
ments presented a perfect sea of fire. Amid the 
roar of thunder, the flashing of lightning, the 
rattling of loose boards upon the roof, and the 
howling, shrieking tumult of the storm wind 
among the trees, the King Charles barked, the 
spouse screamed, the children cried, and the fat 
traveler groaned. 

After a few minutes of appalling confusion, 
during which time the elements seemed a glar- 
ing sea of flame lit grandeur, as the fiery sheets 
darted along the earth, transforming the scene 
into a picture of awful, yet sublime beauty, the 
waves commenced to dash against the house. 

Gentle reader, we might exaggerate in 
this description if so disposed. We might say 
that it rained pitchforks, black cats, and hay- 
stacks, but it did not. It only rained. It rained 
a Kansas rain — a wet rain — or at least a very 
damp rain. It can rain in Kansas — occasionally. 
This was one of the times when it could rain. 
This was the occasionally. 

The dashing waves beat against the roof 
and walls of the Hotel de Mason with an im- 
petuosity that chilled the hearts of the inmates. 

The water was soon pouring through the 
roof in torrents. It dashed against the walls of 
the building with a force that sent it through the 


321 


chinks between the logs. The inside walls were 
completely immersed in dampness. In at the 
roof through the walls, and over the floor the 
water ran unrestrained. 

Reader, could we only inform you that the 
water confined its mad career to the floor, we 
would be happy; but, alas! of such the complex 
web of life is not woven. 

In its maddened fury, the rain dashed in 
upon the spouse and King Charles, extracting 
wild, piercing screams from the former, and 
vigorous howls from the latter. The dampness 
fell in great waves upon the children, and it 
would be a waste of ink to say that they cried. 
They did not cry. They made the welkin ring 
with a confusion of sounds that might have been 
easily mistaken for the festive war whoop of a 
Comanche red-skin. 

The fat traveler awoke just as a tremend- 
ous wave dashed through an opening in the roof 
and fell with refreshing dampness upon his face, 
prompting him to spring out upon the floor, scat- 
tering the bed clothes around him like dry leaves 
before the autumnal wind. Dressed in his night- 
clothes, the fat traveler stood in the center of the 
room, a fair picture of the “sheeted dead” that 
are said to haunt the streets of Rome. 

At the sight of this sudden apparition, the 


322 


spouse gave vent to series of histerical screams, 
in which King Charles joined vigorously. 

By this time all the inmates of the sleeping 
palace were briskly astir. 

Amid the roaring of the elements and the 
din within, the scene grew wildly humorous; and 
although the “ rushing to and fro” was on a 
smaller scale than at the time when the famous 
revelry was held in “Belgium’s lofty Capital,’’ 
the “hot haste” was just as vigorous. The guests 
were all busily engaged in searching for “dry 
spots.” The water was pouring down from the 
upper to the lower floor, like Mr. Southey’s water 
that came down at Lodore: 

“ Showering and springing, 

Flying and flinging.” 

Finding that they were doomed to damp- 
ness, the guests of the Hotel de Mason sulkily 
resigned themselves to fate. They huddled 
down along the walls of the building and with 
blankets and every thing else that they could 
appropriate were vainly trying to protect them- 
selves from the damp night atmosphere. 

We said they huddled down. They did not all 
huddle. The fat traveler did not huddle. The 
fat traveler sat down upon his couch and made 
some remarks. He used language. He de- 
nounced Kansas, the weather, and bed bugs; he 


323 


groaned, and swore at the U. S. Congress and 
made some general remarks about almost every- 
thing which had added its mite to his overflow- 
ing cup of misery. A close observer would have 
made the discovery that the fat traveler was dis- 
contented. 

Time and space forbid a more extended ac- 
count of the adventures of our two friends at the 
Hotel de Mason. 

At early dawn the storm abated. . The. 
clouds soon dispersed, leaving a mantle ot azure, 
overspreading the earth; Not wishing to break- 
fast at the Hotel de Mason, Messrs. Hood and 
Shakespeare departed early. When they last 
saw the fat citizen, he was sitting.upon his couch, 
groaning, and deploring the unhappy lot of a 
traveler in Kansas, while the children screamed 
and King Charles barked. 


©VjQipter /KXVl. 

Reader, we will now invite you to journey 
with us. The journey will not be long, and if 
you are already weary of the road over which 
you have traveled with us in Kansas, we will, in 
the way of recreation for you, lead you over into 
Missouri. 

Do not “git skeered,” as Mr. Posey would 
say; we are not going to leave you there; but 
after we have initiated you into the secret of 
our expedition, we will take you safe and sound 
back to the sunflower fields of Kansas. 

Reader, you may not like Kansas. We do. 
Her sunflowers and her blizzards; her sunny 
skies and her grasshoppers; her wet days and 
her dry months are all poetic. 

Time, one week after the adventures of By- 
ron and Skaggs at Catfish Bottom. 

The picture which we wish to present to 
you was one which was very common in the 
days before the “wah,” but rarely seen now. 

On the southern slope of a somewhat abrupt 


325 


hill that overlooked the valley of creek, 

about sixty miles within the state of Missouri 
from the western line, stood the mansion of 
Colonel Snobkins. On the north, stretching far 
up the hillside, was the orchard, now beautiful 
with summer fruits. To the westward, in the 
edge of the valley were the stables, and back of 
these, just at the base of the hill, were about 
twenty log huts scattered promiscuously around 
over three or four acres of ground. 

In these habitations lived the slaves of Colo- 
nel Snobkins, the “master.” 

Colonel Snobkins was a native of Georgia, 
but had for over twenty years been a resident 
of Missouri, whither he had come, as he often 
said, to do missionary work for the absorbing 
enterprise of the South — slavery and slave la- 
bor. 

As we have intimated, the Colonel was pros- 
pering in the enterprise. He, like Colonel Hig- 
gins, had mounted high up the ladder of fame, 
although the daring deeds and wonderful exploits 
that made him famous are not chronicled in this 
or any other book. 

But Colonel Snobkins was popular among 
the many minions who followed his star of for- 
tune. 

He was an oracle on all matters relating to 


326 


politics, and was consulted by his admiring 
neighbors, from far and near, upon the political 
issues that were then agitating the country. 

It was even claimed by some that . many of 
his fellow citizens refused to express an opinion 
upon a new issue until they discovered how the 
Colonel stood on the “pint.” 

The report may have been false. 

We only know that the Colonel was a gen- 
tleman of vast influence, was wealthy, and owned 
many negroes. 

Reader, again we change the scene, but 
not the geography of our history. We invite 
you to go with us to the timbered hills that lay 
back to westward of Colonel Snobkins’ estates. 

About one mile distant from the mansion 
house, on the summit of a hill, securely hidden 
by a dense growth of scrubby oaks, we happen 
upon a camp in the woods. 

The scene that presents itself to our gaze 
was one by no means uncommon in those days. 
Several horses are tied to trees near a fire which, 
in a well secluded place, had been built against 
a log. Saddles are laying upon the ground, 
guns are to be seen stacked against trees, and 
every thing indicates a but recently “pitched 
camp.” 

Two men, the only ones now visible, are 


32 / 


sitting upon a log, and, from the frequent^gest- 
ures, vve presume them to be engaged in an ani- 
mated discussion. 

“We,” said Brown, “must have every detail 
arranged before we act to-night.” 

“Why not act without details.^” said Mont- 
gomery. 

“Pompey lost Pharsalia because he fought 
without a plan of battle.” 

“And,” said Montgomery, “Hannibal lost 
Zama because his army was burdened by a plan 
of battlethat it was not capable of carrying out.” 

“Hannibal,” said Brown, “lost Zama be- 
cause he fought with an army of undisciplined 
troops. 

“If the great Carthagenian had maintained 
the discipline that crowned with glory the arms 
of Carthage, during the first ten years of his ca- 
reer in Italy, the haughty Caesars would never 
have made their appearance in the military are- 
na, and Carthage, not Rome, would have been 
the mistress of the world. 

“It always was and so will it always be with 

men. 

“All of the great military achievements that 
have startled the world, no difference how bril- 
liant, have been the outgrowth of deeply laid 
and well matured plans. We will make due 


328 


allowance for accidents in war. Some battles 
have been lost in which the defeated general dis- 
played the greatest generalship ; and some have 
been won in which the victor ascended the hill 
of Fame by force of circumstances. Zama was 
a striking example of the first, and Waterloo of 
the latter. 

“Our enterprise requires discipline and cau- 
tion. It will not bring fame. Many there be 
who will denounce it. Even the so-called cham- 
pions of freedom would say no. It is a holy 
cause. 

“ Who would thirst for fame when liberty 
is in shackles ? 

“The work which we now do is destined to 
be of greater importance to mankind than either 
Zama or Waterloo. I speak of the united efforts 
now being put forth to free the slaves of this 
country from accursed bondage. 

“Waterloo, blindly, brought to the victor 
fame and renown. But those are empty dreams. 

“Like the false mirage, they vanish away. 

‘ ‘ The man who works for the good of others, 
is the man whose name will be written on the 
book of Eternity.” 

A third party appears on the scene. 

“Well, Joe,” said Brown, addressing the 
Hoosier, “ what have you discovered r 


329 


“Oh, we’re onto ’em. Ole Snobkins won’t 
have niggers ’nuf left down there to make a 
shadder, by this time to-morry.” 

“ Skaggs has struck the scent, and, although 
he ain’t sayen’ much, he knows what he is doing. 
He uster live in these parts; and the nigs all 
know him. He was riz not far from here. 

“And the Injun beats all out doors. Why, 
last evenin’ we sent him to reconoiresome, and 
I’ll be conslabbed if he want stiller than a statter. 
He was up to the very winders of the house and 
come back and told us what the family was doin’. 
We are safe here from diskivery as long as the 
Injun’s eyes are open. He can see in the nighty 
’pears to me, as well as in the day time. Last 
night when we went to the nig’s cabins we sent 
the Injun to see if the coast was clear. We was 
standin’ above the nig houses, sort o’ next to the 
Snobkins dwellin’. Suddently the Injun put his 
hand on his lips, and at the same time touched 
us lightly and was down on the ground as flat as 
a spreadin’ adder. 

“We follered suit, and none to peart neither, 
for we had just got stretched out on the ground 
when some of the Snobkinses came along. We 
could have touched them, they passed so near us. 

“I’ll tell you if that Injun had not been with 
us, we would beeds catched, sure.” 


330 


“ The Kanza,” said Brown ‘ ‘ can be depend- 
ed upon.” 

“He is a natural Indian strategist. I have 
never known him to be mistaken in anything 
pertaining to his line of work — scouting on the 
frontier. His people have a melancholy history. 

“ Honipuss is the last of the Kanza chiefs. 
When he is no more, the last of the proud 
sachems of the western plains will have perished 
from the earth. 

“The degeneracy that has befallen the rest 
of the tribe cannot reach Wampawara and his 
son. 

“Although a chief without a following Wam- 
pawara is just as dignified and lofty in mein as 
he was when he led the victorious Kanzas against 
the Pawnees on many a field of fame, in the days 
of his glory. 

“The man who makes a friend of a Kanza 
may rest assured that the friendship will not be 
betrayed.” 

Having thus spoken the Rifle captain left 
the camp, accompanied by Montgomery and the 
gentleman from Bitter Creek. 

Night has again fallen upon the earth. The 
moon is hidden by drifting clouds. 

Only for a moment does she peep out from 
her place of hiding, and is again veiled in the 


331 


rapidly changing, hurry skurry mass of vapor 
piled up against the southern sky. 

All is commotion in the camp in the woods. 

Brown and Montgomery, with their band to 
which has been- added twenty persons, and 
although it was too dark to distinguish personal 
appearances, it was evident to all that the new 
arrivals did not belong to the proud and haughty 
Caucasian race. 

The “new comers” were negroes, and as they 
expressed it “boun’ fo’ de Ian’ of freedom,” and 
firmly believing that the “Great Jubilee” had 
dawned upon their race. 

After some hasty preparations, the party 
broke camp and started toward Kansas. 

A merrier company of exodusters never ex- 
odusted. 

Although there were several mounted upon 
horses, and they moved away briskly, the sable 
pedestrians traveled in the van. It was with 
great difficulty that Brown restained the merry 
fugitives from giving vent to their swelling 
spirits in a manner that might have proven very 
detrimental to their prospective freedom. Fre- 
quently one of them would break forth in a “bit 
of song” which would be promptly suppressed by 
the Rifle chief. 

These occurrences were frequent during the 


332 


first hour of the journey from the camp^in the 
woods. All such outbursts were finally quelled 
by the assurance that they would lead to recap- 
ture by Colonel Snobkins and his men. 

After comparative quiet was restored the 
company moved quietly but rapidly westward. 


Vi' . V- 




©l]Gipter ^XVU. 

On the morning succeeding the exit of 
Brown and the negroes from Snobkins’ planta- 
tion, the utmost excitement prevailed around 
the habitation of the “Colonel.” 

The news of the exodus had spread rapidly 
over the neighborhood, and within a few hours 
after the discovery, numerous groups of men, 
boys, and dogs had assembled at the “Colonel’s” 
mansion to learn the particulars in regard to the 
rumors that were spreading like “fire in dry stub- 
ble.” 

These rumors were varied in character. 
One courier reported that “Colonel” Snobkins 
and family had been murdered by negroes. 
Another reported that an attempt had been 
made on the “Colonel’s” life, and that a general 
insurrection by the blacks might be expected at 
any hour. 

It was indeed a “motley crew” that was pre- 
sented to the gaze around the “Colonel’s” front 
gate. 


22 


334 


Some of the excited throng were riding 
restlessly to and fro, swearing that all they lack- 
ed of filling life’s cup brim full of happiness was 
an opportunity to bring the “nigger thieves” 
back, dragging at their horses’ heels. 

Some were almost constantly blowing horns, 
to which responses were promptly made by fel- 
low footers in various parts of the adjacent neigh- 
borhood, plainly indicating that, notwitnstand- 
ing the sanguinary reports, the inhabitants were 
not fully persuaded whether these signals for as- 
sembling meant a fox hunt, or a run after “nig- 
ger thieves.” 

Almost every horseman that came gallop- 
ing up to the “Colonel’s” was accompanied by 
from one to three hounds. Scarcely was a horn 
tooted without a responsive baying from the 
dogs, which, like their masters, were restlessly 
impatient in anticipation of the prospective chase. 

After much confusion and many harangues, 
the real object of their assembling together was 
proclaimed by the “Colonel.” 

It required several hours to arrive at a conclu- 
sion in regard to the action necessary to meet 
the emergency. 

Almost every man present had apian which 
he stoutly maintained was the only wise one un- 
der the existing circumstances. Each plan was 


335 


brought before the crowd only to be swept away 
by the adverse floods of argument which were 
invariably turned against it. Finally the “Col- 
onel’s” overseer brought the negroes up, and each 
one was questioned, but no one could give the 
much desired information. Their companions, 
they declared, had left them unawares during 
the night, and of their whereabouts they knew 
nothing. Several of them were subjected to se- 
vere chastisement, but if they were in possession 
of the secret it was zealously guarded. Finding 
that no information could be obtained from the 
slaves, the “Colonel” and his friends again held 
a consultation in regard to their dilemma. Their 
much desired information came when they least 
expected it. A young man from an adjacent 
neighborhood stated that he had been riding in 
the timber hills at a late hour on the previous 
night, and had seen a company of men and 
horses traveling through the woods. He stated 
that he had had barely time to secrete himself 
in a clump of bushes when the travelers passed 
within a few yards of him, and he felt assured 
at the time that it was a band of ‘ ‘nigger thieves” 
running some slaves out of the country.. Hear- 
ing of the sensation at the plantation of ‘‘Colonel” 
Snobkins, the young man had ridden rapidly to 
the scene of the disturbance to impart his in- 


336 


formation to the “Colonel.” 

This intelligence was a signal for a fresh 
outbreak of oaths and defiant declarations on the 
part of the assembled equestrians. 

For a few minutes all attempts to decide 
upon a plan of action were of no avail. 

Every body talked, every body suggested, 
every body was excited, and every body was 
misunderstood. Every body knew just how to 
catch the “nigger thieves.” 

Every body had a plan, but nobody was 
heard. Nobody was able to understand himself. 

Finally “Colonel” Snobkins mounted a 
“horse block” which stood in front of the gate 
and addressed the crowd. 

The “Colonel” succeeded in gaining the at- 
tention of the discordant elements, and proceed- 
ed to lay his plans for the pursuit. 

After several hours delay, a company of 
about eighty men and almost as many boys and 
dogs started out to scour the country in search 
of the fugitives. 

After an interval of two hours, the appoint- 
ed signal, blowing of horns, was given, and the 
excited hunters responded by assembling on the 
hill at the camp so recently occupied by the 
“nigger thieves.” 

Here was another occasion for an outburst 


337 


of public sentiment, and it is useless to state 
that the occasion was well improved. 

Again the young men paraded their foam- 
ing steeds around through the crowd, and this 
tinae in a manner much more emphatical than 
grammatical, declared that the Abolitionists 
would come back through this very camp, “drag- 
ging at the bosses’ heels.” 

After innumerable suggestions, and the set- 
ting forth of many plans for the capture of the 
runaways, the crowd again resumed its pursuit. 

It was with great difficulty that the pursuers 
moved forward in the direction that the “nigger 
thieves” had gone. But finally having “struck 
the trail,” they moved on somewhat briskly, 
and were soon engaged in the pursuit in earnest. 

Some of the pursuers kept the trail, an old 
road running westward, now seldom used by 
the public, while others scoured the adjacent 
hills. 

At different points on the road traces of the 
fugatives were discovered, and at every discovery 
the eagerness of the pursuers was increased. 

But it was now drawing near the close of 
the afternoon, and as it was evident to the more 
thoughtful among the assembly, and especi- 
ally “Col.” Snobkins, that the fugitives were at 
least from twelve to fifteen hours in advance. 


338 


After a hurry skurry chase of four hours, 
night came on, and the company halted for the 
night. 

The ardor of some had abated by this time» 
and finding the accommodations in Nature’s ho- 
tel rather limited, they “took the back track,” 
resolved to let the slave problem alone, to be 
solved by those most interested. 

It might be of interest to the reader to no- 
tice at this point that the ones who were at the 
commencement of the pursuit, loudest in their 
boasts and declarations of vengeance, were among 
the first to despair of success; and the young 
gentlemen who had on the proceeding morning so 
boldly, so bravely declared that the “nigger 
thieves” should return, dragging at the horse’s 
heels, were all under the friendly shelter of the 
parental roof ere the following midnight hour. 

But Col. Snobkins and his followers were 
not to be baffled by circumstances, and “went 
into camp” determined to resume the chase at 
“moon rise, ’’which would take place at midnight. 

We must now return to the exodusters. 

After leaving the camp in the woods, they 
traveled westward at a rapid gait. Morning 
found them twenty miles from the rendezvous 
from which they started on the preceding night. 

After a hastily dispatched meal in a thicket 


339 


aside from the road, the fugitives sought the 
much needed rest at the shrine of Morpheus. 

At four o’clock in the afternoon the party 
resumed its westward march. 

Avoiding the main highway, the 
Rifle chieftain led his band along under the 
cover of the forest until night again invited 
them to the main highway. 

Morning found the fugitives many miles 
nearer the Kansas line. 

Having left the road and found a place 
of comparative security in a densely wooded 
ravine, the travelers halted for breakfast. 

Guards were placed in the various positions 
that commanded the entrance to the camp. 

After everything necessary to the security 
of the party had been adjusted, preparations 
were soon in progress for the morning repast. 

Brown and Montgomery sat apart from the 
other members of the company discussing fu- 
ture plans. 

“It cannot be accomplished, Captain. My 
word upon it, you will fail, or at least I am fear- 
ful that such may be the result. 

“There must be discipline, and discipline 
can only be maintained where there is system.” 

“Montgomery, I perceive that we differ in 
our ideas of action in the crusade, but we will 


340 


lay differences all aside and enter into the work 
with an earnestness that will astonish the ene- 
my.” 

Breakfast was announced and the two arose 
and followed the author of this welcome infor- 
mation to the dining- apartment — furnished by 
nature’s best artist — a spreading oak, decorated 
in richest green. 

It was a “mixed” party that gathered around 
that forest repast — Caucasian, African, and 
American. 

The repast was simple, and as there was no 
printed bill of fare exhibited by this Hotel de 
Woods, we are unable to satisfy the reader’s cu- 
riosity on that subject. But it made no differ- 
ence to the parties interested. They did ample 
justice to the eatibles. Just then, quantity and 
not quality, was the important factor. 

The gentlemen from Bitter Creek and Mr. 
Skaggs sat near each other upon a huge stone 
upon which Brown and Montgomery had also 
found seats. 

The negroes had assembled in a group up- 
on another rock, and were alternately eating, 
laughing and indulg-ing in the historic “yah, 
yah,” as heartily as if there were no clouds hov- 
ering over the scene in the drama of life. 

The Kanza had taken his position apart 


341 


from the other members of the company and 
was quietly eating that portion of the morning 
repast allotted to him. 

“See him as he sits on yonder hill side, the 
last of his family, and perhaps the last great 
Kanza chief,” said Brown, as he pointed toward 
the Indian. 

“Although Honipuss is but a youth in years 
he is a sage in thought and conduct. Young as, 
he is, the misfortunes of his people weigh heavi- 
ly upon his mind. 

“Those who believe that the Indian has no 
nobler sentiments than the gratification of his 
carnal appetites are uninformed. 

“A more forcible demonstration of patriot- 
ism was never manifested than is shown by the 
life of yonder Kanza. Never was Greek more 
devoted to the welfare of his people than is yon- 
der Kanza to the traditions of his own.” 

“It is, indeed, a sad picture. 

“History informs us of the decline of nations 
in the old world. But the decay has generally 
been gradual, and certain causes have marked 
every step on the downward slope, but in this 
country whole nations are lost, as it were, in a 
day. 

“Like a ship which is to be seen proudly 
riding the waves of the sea, and is suddenly 


342 


dashed against the hidden rocks, these nations 
in the west are wrecked. 

“Only yesterday the Kanza was the undis- 
puted master of all this broad expanse of prairie 
to the west of us, which has from him derived 
its name, but now the white man is struggling 
for supremacy in a land which by right of priori- 
ty belongs to the dispossessed Kanza. 

“Such has always been the experience of 
mankind. The stronger race has always exer- 
cised its advantage over the weaker one. 

“But the dawn of human liberty is already 
breaking in upon us. 

“The customs and clouds of centuries are 
vanishing before the light of civilization. 

“The false sentiment that ‘might makes 
right,’ is on the decline, and must soon be bur- 
ied forever. 

“The time has come when men will be free. 
Such is destiny. This grand and glorious truth 
is too plainly chronicled to be mistaken.” 

“I hope that you speak words of truth,” re- 
plied Montgomery. “But there is one thing to 
be remembered; the customs and traditions of 
centuries will not change in a day. I speak of 
universal freedom. That the fetters of slavery 
that hold the negroes of this country are soon to 
be broken is a fact, as you say, plainly chroni- 


343 


cled, but there are other forms of slavery which 
can only be eradicated after a long and fearful 
struggle which will require years of devotion 
for its consumation.” 

The conversation was at this point interrupt- 
ed by the blowing of horns and the baying of 
dogs apparently only a few miles east of the 
camp. 

Everybody listened attentively. 

‘ ‘What is it.? What name you those sounds, 
or rather how do you interpret them.?” said Mont- 
gomery addressing Brown. 

“As I anticipated, we have been pursued.” 

“What am it! What am it! Do you say 
what am it.?” exclaimed old Cicero, one of the 
fugitives. 

“Holdyer bazoo, nig!” exclaimed the gen- 
tleman from Bitter Creek, “Private soldiers 
must not fire off their mouth pieces while the 
officers are consultin’.” 

“The man may speak,” said Brown. “Speak, 
Cicero, speak. What think you of that tumult.?” 

Cicero bowed, grinned, and replied: “It 
am Marse Snobkins er tootin’ ob his ho’n. I 
would know dat toot ’mong .a t’ousand. Den 
dar am oF Rollah ’mong de houn’s, as peart as if 
he war on a hot coon trail. Mighty peart dog, 
dat Rollah. 


344 


‘‘Colonel Snobkins am aftah us, sah,an’ a 
mighty light foot hit ’ll hab ter be dat ’scapes 
f’om de Colonel an’ ol’ Rollah. Dat houn’ come 
f’om ’way down in ol’ Carliner, an’ de nigger 
dat ’scapes f’om him miis’ show a frolicsome 
pair ob heels.” 

“What do you think about it, Captain.^” 
said Montgomery, after they had retired from 
the other members of the party for consultation. 

“I think that they are welcome to come 
and take us, and I pledge you my honor, Mont- 
gomery, a warm reception awaits them.” 

“They may be too strong for us.” 

“They are not too strong for us. We can 
hold this citadel against all the Missourians they 
can muster on this frontier.” 

“For a time only. Our force is limited, and 
we have only rations sufficient for a two days’ 
march. If we are discovered here our expedi- 
tion is lost so far as results are concerned The 
entire country -would soon be alarmed, and all 
hopes of reaching Kansas with these negroes 
would be fruitless.” 

“We can whip them in open field.” 

“Captain Brown, we cannot perform mira- 
cles. • 

“It would be rash injustice to our cause to 
undertake something wholly and hopelessly im- 
possible.” 


345 


The dialogue was interrupted by a renew- 
al of the tumult east of them, and the Captain 
summoned his men to retire to the ion of 
the ravine to await future developments, 

•‘Where are the other members of our par- 
ty?” Brown inquired, as he glanced over the as- 
sembled company. 

“You mean the man Skaggs and the Injun?” 
said the gentleman from Bitter Creek. 

“They left camp when we fust heerd the 
tootin’ of them horns, — Skaggs a boss back and 
the Injun afoot. Ther’s no tollin’ what’s in the 
wind now. Ther’s no readin’ that man Skaggs, 
and the Injun is as silent as if he might be tongue- 
tied. Mark ye though, no move will them toot- 
in’ fellers over yander make, which will escape 
the peepers of that Injun. It beats all how he 
can make himself scarce when the enemy ap- 
proaches, and yet hang upon them like bad luck 
to a parson.” 


©I^apter yKXV^IIl. 

Colonel Snobkins had kept his party upon 
the trail of the fugitives, and, during the first af- 
ternoon of the pursuit, had greatly diminished 
the distance between the pursuers and the pur- 
sued. 

However, upon resuming the chase at mid- 
night succeeding the first halt, the Colonel’s par- 
ty missed the road taken by the fugitives, and 
took a more recently made road, and, by several 
miles, a nearer route than the one taken by 
Brown and his band. 

Both the parties had traveled briskly west- 
ward during the night, but owing to the shorter 
route and better road, the Colonel’s party had 
much the best of the race, and, though they 
were not aware of it. they stopped for breakfast 
at a farm house but a mile or two from the cov- 
eted prize. 

The roads traveled by the two parties in- 
tersected only a short distance west of Brown’s 
camp, having run almost parallel for several 
miles. 


347 


After the Colonel’s party had breakfasted, 
the pursuit was resumed, and the blowing of 
horns to announce to the canine members of the 
pursuit that it was time to move, was the first 
warning that the Rifle chief received, telling 
him that the enemy was near. 

The Colonel was leading his band along the 
highway at a rate which would have proved dan- 
gerous to the fugitives had they been “on the 
move.” 

The party had proceeded but a short dis- 
tance when a horseman came galloping toward 
them, on a road that led in from the north. 

The stranger rode up to the Colonel and 
presented a paper which was directed to him, 
upon which was written: “Come to the rescue 
of Scragville. The abolitionists and niggers 
are upon us. Hasten or all is lost. Many Citi- 
zens.” 

“What does this mean,” said the Colonel, 
as he glanced from the paper to the courier. 

The stranger informed him that the news 
of the exodus from the Colonel’s plantation had 
reached Scragville, and a company of white men 
and negroes had been seen in the immediate vi- 
cinity, it had been surmised and discovered that 
the town would be burned on the following night. 

Knowing that the Colonel would be in pur- 


348 


suit of his run-aways, the stranger said that the 
citizens of the doomed town had sent him out 
to meet the pursuers and hasten them to the 
scene of danger. 

“You are a brave and generous man,” said 
Colonel Snobkins. “You shall be rewarded for 
this. You are your townsmen’s benefactor.” 

“I shall leave you,” said the stranger. “I 
go to warn others. ” 

“Go, my brave man, go, and may God be 
with you.” 

Colonel Snobkins led his men rapidly away, 
up the northern road, in the direction of Scrcvg- 
ville. 

The stranger reined his horse in a clump of 
trees on the summit of a hill that commanded a 
view of the road for some distance, and as the 
horsemen disappeared over a hill, mused thus: 

“Well, them fellers are sorter grassy. 
They swallered it in fine shape. Wonder if I 
got my piece off in the right kind o’ style.” 

After a few minutes pause, the stranger 
rode slowly through the hills and disappeared 
from view. 

Colonel Snobkins and his men urged their 
horses rapidly forward. Up hill and down, they 
pushed onward, anxious to reach the illfated 
village over which hung so dire a fate. 


349 


After a vigorous ride of twenty miles, they 
reined^ their panting, foam covered horses on 
the public square of Scragville. 

The citizens, unused to such an unusual 
spectacle in their back woods village., rushed 
eagerly into the street to “see the sight.” 

“Where are the accursed sons of Ham and 
their abolitionist brothers.?” said the Colonel, ad- 
dressing one of the curious citizens who had ap- 
proached the strangers, and was gazing upon 
them with a curiosity that evidently sought sat* 
isfaction. 

The citizen, after rolling his tobacco around 
in his mouth divers times, turned to the Colonel 
and replied with the provincial interrogative of 
his countrymen — “hanh.?” 

“Where,” said the Colonel, “are the niggers 
that are about to burn this town.? They are 
mine!” 

“Niggers! Niggers! Haint no niggers go- 
in’ to burn no town as I no on. Only two nig- 
gers in this ere town, one’s Ole Mose an’ ’tuther 
is George Washington Snowball and they won’t 
burn nuthin’.” 

The Colonel scratched his head and -looked 
bewildered. 

He made further inquiries among the citi- 
zens and discovered that they knew nothing of 

23 


3-50 

the negroes, nor of the courier who had induced 
them- to fly to the rescue of Scragville, 

The Colonel was perplexed. 

■ After carefully questioning the different citi- 
zens, the unwelcome truth dawned upon hirri. 
He had been made a victim to deception. 

Brown and Montgomery conducted their 
company westward on the following night, and 
unmolested crossed the Kansas-Missouri line 
and were soon within the security of the Devil 
"Wigwam, determined to ship the fugitives over 
the underground rail road, at the earliest oppor- 
tunity possible. 

After some loud demonstrations of wrath 
Colonel Snobkins returned home and forthwith 
commenced to raise an armed force, invade 
Kansas, and recover his “niggers.” 


©hapter ;K.XIX. 

To collect, arm, and equip a formidable force 
for the invasion of Kansas, was, for Colonel Snob- 
kins, no great task. The whole western Mis- 
souri frontier was agitated over the recent devel- 
opement in Kansas, and the frequent incursions 
made from that Territory across the Missouri 
line, for the purpose of “running off” slaves and 
shipping them by the underground railroad to 
the friendly protection of the liberty loving 
states toward the north star. 

Colonel Snobkins had, within one week after 
his return from the pursuit mentioned in the pre- 
ceding chapter, mustered what he deemed a 
sufficient force to insure success in his contem- 
plated invasion of the already crimsoned territo- 
ry. 

With two hundred enthusiastic Missourians 
ready to avenge his wrongs, Colonel Snobkins 
started for the scene of conflict, fully resolved to 
visit swift and merciless vengence upon his ene- 
mies and at the same time recover his “property.” 


The ardor of some of his followers abated 
before they reached the Kansas line, and when 
the Colonel took an inventory of his goods, after 
he found himself in the land of the enemy, he 
discovered that over one half of his warriors had 
returned to the tranquility of home. 

Undaunted by this- desertion, Colonel Snob- 
kins led the remainder of his army directly to 
Calhoun, having already been promised the co-op- 
eration of Colonel Higgins, who was again plan- 
ning for retribution upon the “nigger thieves.” 

Colonel Higgins had not been inactive since 
the sudden ending of Judge Bragno’s court at 
Catfish Bottom, but had kept his men constantly 
on the alert. 

Posey had “worked” the land well, and but 
few movements were executed by the anti-slave- 
ry men of that part of the territory, which es- 
caped the vigilence of the wily Missourian. 

The situation had become suddenly chang- 
ed all over the territory. Jim Lane was vigor- 
ously moving forward in freedom’s crusade in 
another part of the disputed ground, and the 
war was on in earnest. 

The Calhoun scouts had kept trace of Mr. 
Kamman and his daughter, and when Colonel 
Snobkins arrived at this place and related the 
story of his wrongs, arrangements were immedi- 


353 


diately made to visit the “Nest” and visit upon 
Mr. Kamman the wrath of the dispossessed slave 
owner. 

Mr. Kamman’s position as a Methodist 
preacher made him odious to the citizens of the 
famous pro-slavery town. 

Mr. Spilkins had known in former years 
something of the character of the minister’s 
work in the cause of human freedom, and now 
In the whirlpool of excitement caused by the 
sudden renewel of the conflict, Mr. Kamman was 
considered next to Brown, the leading crusader 
for freedom in that part of the territory. 

At the dead hour of midnight, following the 
arrival of Col. Snobkins at Calhoun a large band 
of pro-slavery knights moved out of the town 
and started in the direction of the Winding Ser- 
pent. Their mission meant blood. They went 
determined to administer to the “abolitionist 
preacher” a lesson on the subject of freedom. 

As the reader has probably conjectured, 
Devil’s Wigwam was in the immediate vicinity 
of the “Nest.” It was the “Lone Eagle” who 
had given Cato such ample reason for a display 
of his talents as a sprinter, as described in a for- 
mer chapter in this history. 

The “Lone Eagle” had several times visited 
the Wigwam, but had never succeeded in con- 


354 


vincing Cato that their venerable visitor was not 
either his Satanic majesty or an inhabitant of 
the spectral realms? 

Notwithstanding the vigilance of the Cal- 
houn Rangers, Brown and Montgomery had 
succeeded in shipping the recent slaves of Col- 
onel Snobkins northward, via the “underground” 
railroad, and when the Colonel arrived at Cal- 
houn and solicited the aid of his Pro-Slavery 
brethren, his “property” was safely transported 
across the ‘-Muddy River,” within the friendly 
state of Iowa. 

Kingsley had been actively engaged in 
mustering a company for the ‘‘Army of the North.’ 

At the earnest solicitation of young Kings- 
ley, Mr. Kamman had decided to postpone his 
return to the Delaware Mission until peace was 
fully restored, and was preparing to journey 
northward into Iowa, where they might remain 
in security until the storm had passed over. 

Kingsley had made arrangements for their 
transportation, and a safe escort beyond the lim- 
its of danger. 

Major Spilkins still meditated violence 
against the “Yankee parson.” 

On the day preceding the one set apart for 
the journey, Mr Kamman and Anna were start- 
led by the sudden appearance at the “Nest” of 


355 


one whom they had believed dead. 

While talking over their plans for future ac- 
tion, and rehearsing their eventful experience 
of the last few months, a man walked through 
the avenue leading into the cavern, and without 
ceremony extended his hand to Mr. Kamman. 

“Do I see aright ! or is it only a dream ? 
We are taught in Holy Writ that the dead come 
not back to life in this world,” said the mission- 
ary as he grasped the proffered hand of the strang- 
er. 

’’The dead mayn’t come back to life, as you 
say, Parson, but the livin’ turn up when an’ where 
you least expect ’em.” ' 

“We had believed you dead and in the better 
land, Mr. Stibbins, ever since your capture ' by 
the Pro-Slavery men on that eventful night,” 
said the preacher.” 

The scout very modestly received Miss Kam- 
man’s enthusiastic greeting, as he replied to the; 
Missionary. : . . 

“Dead, Parson, you see I hain’t, an’ as for, 
bein’ in the better land, can’t say that us who 
foller the border can be counted in, though ! 
hope that sarcumstances will be considered when 
the books is ballanced at the close. 

“Many is the tussle I’ve seed on this - fron- 
tier, but have allers come out safe. 




“Fve reason to thank Providence for per- 
tection, which I hain’t desarved.” 

“How did you escape from your captors?” 
said Mr. Kamman. “We have all this time be- 
lieved you dead. It was so reported all over 
the Territory. 

“After your supposed death we learned of 
your real position. Before that time there were 
many rumors that cast dark shadows on your 
life, but with the story of your death everything 
was explained.” 

“Horiipuss was too much for ’em the night 
they guarded me in the old cabin at Calhoun. 
‘Twas a fearful deed to perform but it had to be 
done.” 

“True, true,” said Mr. Kamman, “but the 
tree of liberty has always been watered with 
blood. Such is the world’s history.” 

“But, changin’ the subject parson. I’ve come 
ag’in to warn you not to undertake that journey 
until Kingsley arrives. I’ve been sent by him. 
He’s afeerd to have you meet him at Lawrence 
for I’ve been scoutin’ round Calhoun and have 
diskivered that the hull diggin’s is riled up over 
some more niggers an’ they are goin’ to make 
you smoke for it. Kingsley will be here to-mor- 
ry an’ wants you to put off your startin’ till he 
comes. Haint sure that the Rangers knows 


357 


’zackly where you are, but ’twould be impossible 
for you to travel without bein’ took in. When 
Kingsley comes he will take you to the ‘River’ 
where all will be safe.” 

“Why,” said Mr. Kamman, “should these 
sons of Belial at Calhoun wish to visit their dis- 
pleasure upon my head.?” 

“Don’t know, parson, but they look upon 
you as the cause of so much of this nigger busi- 
ness. All I know is that they are after you, an’ 
to lay low is all you can do till you an’ the gal 
can git to a safer place.” 

The borderer had scarcely finished the last 
sentence when a confusion of voices was heard 
outside the cavern, and a score of armed men 
came rushing through the entrance way and 
stood curiously regarding the scout. The min- 
gled expressions of surprise and distrust were 
visible upon every face. 

The newcomers were from Calhoun and had 
been led to the Nest by Bill Posey, who had 
learned the location from a youthful of the House 
of Mason. 

Colonels Higgins and Snobkins had, with 
Major Spilkins, accompanied “Sheriff” Posey to 
the Nest. 

The pro-Slavery scouts had, for several 
weeks, been of the opinion that Kingsley, with 


358 


a small band of men was making his headquar- 
ters at this place, and with a formidable band of 
Rangers they had come to capture him and re- 
cover the slaves, not only the ones lost at Silver 
Creek, but those taken still later on. 

Brown had been reported in the extreme 
northern part of the territory, and the report 
had reached Calhoun that the slaves of Colonel 
Snobkins were still in hiding somewhere in that 
vicinity, possibly at the Nest. 

“We are almost as much surprised to meet 
you here,” said. Major Spilkins to the scout, “as 
you must be to meet us. Again treacherous 
man, you have been overtaken by justice. But 
be assured that justice will make no mistakes 
this time. Providence has thrown you into our 
power and we will not misuse the gift. No, false 
traitor, you die an ignominious death. This 
time you will not be given the advantage of the 
night and a possible opportunity to commit 
another murder. 

“The blood of an innocent man cries up 
from the ground against you. The blood of the 
murdered sentinel cries for vengeance.” 

“You need not boast, seein’ you’re many 
and I’m few. You had me onct afore and did 
not have the pleasure of a killen’, al tho’ ’twer 
yer boast. 


359 


“ Since yer fine time at my funral at Cal- 
houn, I’ve had the honor of yer company more 
’en onct. Staid a hull week in yer town, and. 
Major do yer call to mind the night we played 
it on yer at Josh Masons? We et at the same 
table, and slept in the same room. You fellers 
is a fine set to try to pass for frontiersmen.” 

As, upon close scrutiny, the Rangers dis- 
covered that there was but one possible avenue 
for exite from the cavern, Mr. Kamman and 
Anna were left within while the scout was seized, 
and after his hands were securely bound, he was 
led outside and placed with his back against a 
tree. 

Major Spilkins had all the time shown him- 
self to be a ready talker, but in all of the con- 
flicts in which the Calhoun Rangers had partici- 
pated, the Major had not shown brilliant fighting 
qualities, and, notwithstanding the fact that the 
rough characters with whom he was associated 
admired a ready tongue, they had expressed 
themselves on many occasions that the Major 
was “ more talk than fight.” 

These expressions had reached the Major’s 
ears, and had caused him no small amount of 
annoyance, as he had always posed as a “fire- 
eater ” in all of his heated orations. 

Now an opportunity was presented for Mr. 


3^0 


Spilkins to redeem his lost prestige. 

After a hurried consultation, it was decreed 
that the “abolitionist spy” should be shot im- 
mediately, and prevent all possibility of escape. 
Past experience with him had made them cau- 
tious. 

The Major proposed to demonstrate his fire 
eating qualities by taking the life of the prisoner. 

After everything was in readiness for the 
deed, the Major advanced to the prisoner and 
addressed him thus .* “Stibbins, we have de- 
creed your death. You die for crimes com- 
mitted against the honest citizens of this Ter- 
ritory. 

“ Since the fatal morning after your bloody 
crime at Calhoun, I have sworn vengeance. I 
have hunted you far and near, and now feel that 
this is the happiest hour of my life as I have an 
opportunity to serve my native state by aveng- 
ing the. death of one of her sons, I speak of the 
brave sentinel whose ghostly face bore your 
bloody marks when you escaped from justice at 
Calhoun. Traitor prepare to meet death.” 

“ Brave yer gittin’. Major, but if I’d my rifle, 
or were to tussle it out with knives or any kind 
of weepins, you’d not talk so big nor would yer 
be so peart for fight. 

“Any body can talk big to a feller when his 


56 i 


hands is tied, but if yer realy a fighter turn me 
loose and les’ fight like men. Fer the life of me, 
I can’t see what honor ’tis to shoot a man when 
his hands is tied. 

“ Any coward kin do sich as that, but if yer 
been seedin’ me so long give me a chance to 
show these boys who is the gamest man.” 

“ Good ! Good,” exclaimed several voices in 
the crowd. “The Abolitionist should die, and 
we would like to see the Major do him in a fair 
fight.” 

Their manifestation caused the Major to be- 
come very nervous. This was an unlooked for 
feature. 

“Fair fight !” “Les’ have it on the square.’’ 
The Major has did a heap of thinkin’ now, let 
him show us some fitin’, ” came from the crowd. 

“This won’t do,” said Colonel Higgins. 
“We have captured one of the dreadfulest ene- 
mies in the Territory, and the Major shall have 
the honor of doin’ the killen. Stibbins don’f 
want to fight. Its his last hope of escapin’.” 

This talk had the desired effect upon the 
crowd, and Major* Spilkins resumed his menac- 
ing position in front of the prisoner. 

Mr. Kamman stood between the prisoner 
and his would-be slayer pleading for time to be 
allotted to the man, before he should be ushered 
* into eternity. 


362 


Anna was also pleading with all the fervor 
of her sympathetic nature for the life of her 
friend. 

Mr. Kamman and his daughter were pushed 
rudely aside and forced back within the cavern, 
but through the entrance watched the prisoner, 
praying with all the power that they possessed 
for his deliverance. 

Not a shadow crossed the face of the pris- 
oner as he calmly stood up to meet his death. 
He looked as deliberately at Major Spilkins, 
when the latter raised his pistol to fire, as if the 
affair was to him one of no importance. 

Mr. Spilkins had raised his pistol and point- 
ed it directly at the breast of the scout. 

A sudden swish — from an unseen hand a 
misile of death darts through the air and Major 
Spilkins with a groan sank upon the earth. 

This sudden change in the scene threw the 
Rangers into great confusion. 

They rushed out to the fallen man. The 
pallor of death was slowly stealing upon him. 

An arrow, ingeniously fashioned and tipped 
with feathers from the wing of the wild goose, 
was sticking in his breast. 

The iron spear was buried in the flesh. The 
Carolinan had met his death. 

In the tumult and confusion, the scout had 


3^3 


been forgotten by the Rangers. 

Mr. Kamman unloosed the cords that bound 
his hands, and they both walked back into the 
Nest. 

The bewildered Rangers stood for several 
minutes around the lifeless form of the unfortu- 
nate Spilkins. 

From whence came this missile of death, 
was a question which none could answer. Ev- 
ery spot within the range of vision, on the sur- 
rounding' cliffs; was closely scanned, but if the 
sullen rocks contained an explanation of the 
mystery they made no revelations. 

Was it Providential.^ Did the scout possess 
a charmed life.^ 

From the edge of the cliff, in the security 
of the rocks, only a few yards distant, two be- 
ings, each one with a bow and quiver swinging 
from his shoulders, and a long barreled rifle in 
grasp, watched every movement of the Rangers. 

“The hand of Providence.” said Mr. Kam- 
man, addressing the scout after they had retired 
within the Nest. 

“No! no! parson, ’twas Honipuss. I know 
it by the mark on the arrow. Pm allers fer rec- 
ognizin’ an’ givin’ thanks to Providence for all 
the many blessings that come our way, but 
’twould be no more’n right to give the Injun the 


364 

credit fer that fine shot.” 

“Providence uses means to accomplish his 
purposes. The same unseen hand that directed 
the stone from the sling of the shepherd boy of 
Israel and overthrew the Philistine giant directed 
the arrow which saved your life.” 

“Pm uneddicated, parson, and not up in 
them things. I only wanted to include Honi- 
puss in this, an’ p’raps, as yer say. Providence 
directed the weepon, but that it came from the 
strong bow of the Injun, I’ll stake my life on it.” 

The Rangers seemed at a loss for an inter- 
pretation of the mystery. 

That the missile could not have come from 
the cavern was evident to all of them. The 
dead man lay in the position in which he had 
fallen, when the Rangers were again startled by 
the sudden appearance of the Lone Eagle in 
their midst. 

“What means all this tumult at the door of 
my habitation.?” said the old man, as he stopped 
to gaze upon the lifeless form of Major Spilkins. 

“What means this evidence of death at the 
very entrance of my abode.?” 

Not a word was spoken in answer to the in- 
terrogation, and after curiously inspecting the 
strangers, the old man passed into the Nest. 

“What means this strange company and 


3^5 


yonder signs of death,” said the old man to Mr. 
Kamman, as he grasped the hand of the scout. 

Mr. Kamman related all he knew of the 
purposes of the crowd outside and the event 
which ended the career of Mr. Spilkins. 

“Ah, it was four and sixty years ago, but 
men have not forgotten their thirst for blood 
and war. 

“This mornipg I started out to learn wis- 
dom from the lesson of the hills, and after hours 
of profitable reflection I returned to find hostil- 
ty and death encompassing my friends, at the 
very door of my humble abode. It tells me 
that life is still a strange lesson.” 

After a deliberation of several minutes, the 
Rangers decided to postpone, for the present, 
their search for the lost “niggers,” and return 
to Calhoun for the burial of Major Spilkins. 

They determined, also, to take Mr, Kam- 
man and the scout with them as prisoners. 

The impetuous Posey and a half score of 
others started toward the door of the cavern. 
They were now convinced that the Lone Eagle 
was the author of Major Spilkins’ death, and 
they proposed to force the old man to give his 
own life for the one which they believed he had 
taken. 

They had almost gained the door when two 

24 


366 


messengers of death again sped on their de- 
structive errands, and, striking the two foremost, 
sent them to the earth. 

’ The RangerSj thus suddenly checked in 
their designs, hovered over their fallen com- 
rades. 

Investigation revealed the fact that both 
had received' death blows from the fataj arrovVS 
which SO mysteriously changed the course of 
events. 

Eagerly they scanned the hills around them 
but no signs of the mystery were visible. 

What could it mean.^ 

Was it supernatural.? 

To add to their consternation, another ' de- 
structive messenger whizzed through the air, 
then another, and still another. 

Strong was the arm and deadly the aim of 
the one by whom these death dealing darts were 
sent. Every one of thern reached its mark and 
failed not to touch the life of. its victim. . 

This was beyond endurance. 

A panic seized upon the baffled Rangers 
and they fled from the' place, leaving their de’ad 
corhrades where they had fallen. They returned 
to Calhoun arid the riches of all the earth would 
hot have tempted some of them back to the 
scene of their recent adventure, 


36 / 


Mr. Spilkins and the other dead were buried 
by the Lone Eagle and the scout, a few rods 
from the Nest. 

Mr. Kamman very devoutly used the sol- 
emn funeral ceremony of his church at the grave. 

While the minister was' devoutly imploring 
the throne of grace, and every head in that 
small group was bent forward in reverence, “Old 
John Brown” appeared at the grave and respond- 
ed with many fervent “amens” to the earnest 
appeals. 

Scarcely had the services at the grave been 
concluded when another surprise came in the 
persons of Messrs. Kingsley and Skidmore; 

The Kanzas had kept pace with the move- 
ments of the Calhoun Rangers, and when Colo- 
nel Snobkins arrived at Calhoun it was a signal 
for a renewal of hostilities, consequently they 
(the Indians) had spread the alarm and there had 
been a sudden assembling of Brown’s followers 
at the wigwam. 


©I^apter /K.XX. 

The subsequent history of the characters in 
this book will require but “a parting word.” 

Colonel Snobkins returned to Missouri and 
during the Civil War distinguished himself as a 
Confederate officer, and after the war was hon- 
ored in his nativeState by many positions of hon- 
orin ‘“high council” 

Colonel. Higgans left Kansas shortly after 
the declaration of peace, and when the great war 
broke out, he joined his fortunes with the army 
of the famous General Price, of a Confederate 
notoriety. 

ColonelHiggins, after the famous“PriceRaid,’’ 
did not return to Kansas until many years after 
the close of the war, when he returned to, in the 
lecture field, advocate reform in the interest of 
the agricultural classes. 

Josh Mason, with two of his sons, followed 
Colonel Higgins and enlisted under the Stars and 
Bars, and while fighting to defend that ill-fated 
emblem of treason, both of the sons fell at Wilson 
Creek. 


369 

Still latter on, while following the impetu- 
ous Price on his famous “Raid,” the host of the 
Hotel de Mason closed his career upon earth at 
the battle of the Big Blue. 

Three of the Mason boys, “Sam,” Joe, and 
Bill, contrary to the admonition of their father, 
enlisted to fight for the Stars and Stripes. Bill 
was killed at Wilson Creek and was burried by 
the surviving brothers in a grave with the broth- 
ers who had fallen in the “last cause,” one wear- 
ing the blue and two the gray. 

Sam and Joe returned to Kansas after the 
war and became properous citizens. 

Bill Posey les a wild life on the frontier af- 
ter the Rebellion. He followed the dashing 
chieftain, Quantrell, in the historic raid on Law- 
rence. His lawless career continued until the 
close of the war. He disappeared from public 
notice at that time. 

There was a rumor in after years that he, 
under an assumed name, joined the United 
States army, and fell into the Custer Massacre. 
It was never positively known whether this ru- 
mor was false or true. 

Dr. Byron disappeared soon after the me- 
morable night at the Hotel de Mason. Little 
had been known of him even by his friends. 
Where he went after hostilities ceased in Kansas 


370 


has always been a matter of conjecture. 

A person answering to his description com- 
mitted suicide in Colifornia many years after- 
wards. 

It had previously been whispered that Dr. 
Byron fell at Harper’s Ferry, under an assumed 
name, but the prevailing belief has been that 
the California suicide was no other than the 
‘‘poet of the border war.” 

Enough was learned of Dr. Byron during 
his career in Kansas to place him among liter- 
ary stars of the highest order. 

Rumor said that he was born in England, 
and that he had inherited his literary genius 
from one of Englands greatest bards. 

The Lone Eagle lived but a few months af- 
ter the events of the preceding chapter. Jerry 
Stibbiils and the Kanzas were with him when 
he, triumphant to the last, surrendered his lease 
on life and entered the .great unknown. 

The old man passed fromtim^eto the realms 
of eternity as peacefully as a child falls into 
sleep after surrendering the toils and cares of 
the day. 

His last words were as follows: 

“It was four and sixty years ago. They 
were rudely torn from me. To-day we meet 
again. Eternity has no partings.” 


371 

The scout and the Indians hurried the ven- 
erable sage in the place where he had lived for 
so many years. 

The lonely old exile had at last found rest 
— a lonely grave in Kansas. 

There is another grave far away across the 
deep blue sea, in the beautiful valley of the 
winding Garonne. 

In the land of the immortal no seas inter-, 
vene, 

Mr. Kamman and Anna returned to Ver- 
mont. Mr. Kamman went out as Chaplain for 
one of the regiments of his native State at the 
outbreaking of the Civil War, and after minister- 
ing faithfully to both friends and foe upon the 
bloody fields of battle for. two years, he returned 
to Starkville and died. 

! ■ 

He had never fully recovered from the ill 
treatment at the hands of the Pro-Slavery men 
on the night of his capture at the mission. 

He now quietly rests by the side of his wife 
among the New England mountains. 

Montgomery continued to assist Brown in. 
freedom’s crusade until order was restored in 
Kansas. 

He fought galantly in the Union army dur- ^ 
ing the war, and after the rebellion was crushed 
he lived in the State for several years and died 


372 


esteemed by his countrymen. 

John Brown continued with his trusted fol- 
lowers to promote the cause of human liberty. 

With Wigwam for his stronghold he opera- 
ted the “underground railroad” many months 
after the cessation of active hostilities in Kans- 
as, even after his presence in the territory was 
denied. 

His daring deeds and heroic death at Har- 
pers’ Ferry in eighteen hundred and fifty nine are 
a part of the worlds history. 

John Brown was one of the most peculiar 
characters ever revealed by the history of the 
human race. 

As time passed on and the clouds of preju- 
dice slowly disappears, the old hero of the Border 
War becomes more and more appreciated. 

The prejudiced charge of insanity is slowly 
fading into vapor. 

That John Brown acted cooly and with a 
full realization of the probable result is now a 
matter of general belief. 

In freedoms vanguard, John Brown stands 
the greatest among them all. 

The pages of history that record heroic 
deeds speak of none who were more worthy of 
undying fame than the “John Brown of Kansas.’’ 

His name stands inseparably connected 


373 


with the history of freedom in the United States, 
Millions of human beings to-day speak his 
name with reverence. 

Millions yet unborn will do him honor. 

His life was a beacon light that flashed sud- 
denly across the darkened horizon of human 
slavery, and men in the north, men in the south, 
men in the east and men in the west saw its 
course and followed it to the cradle of liberty. 

They sent the brave old warrior to the gal- 
lows, dust returned to dust, but the heroic “soul 
went marching on.” 


V 


©j^apter PK.XXI. 


[IN AFTER YEARS.] 

“Oh, J-o-e ! Oh, Joe ! Oh, Joe!” Then 
far away in a remote part of the camp ground, 
the cry is re-echoed — “Oh, Jo-oe I” 

“ Here’s yer mule !” 

Again the ever swelling, never ceasing cry, 
“ Oh, Joe 1” 

Then again the never failing response, 
“Here’s yer mule,” rolls along the line until it 
reaches the extreme limits of the camp. 

Far away we hear the sound of many voices. 

After the tumult is continued for several 
hours, the shrill blast of the bugle announces that 
activity must cease, and after that comparative 
quiet reigns. 

We say comparative. It is only compara- 
tive, for all night long, at uncertain intervals and 
in divers places Joe’s run-a-way mule “turns up,” 
and due announcement is always promptly made- 

The stars are twinkling in resplendent 


375 


beauty, illuminating the heavens with their 
diamond rays, and presenting to ^ the human 
vision a scene of loveliness unequaled by any- 
thing possible to the arts of mortals. 

The pale moon has sunk behind the western 
hills, and in departing has left her red pictures 
painted in fantastic quaintness along the horizon; 
the warm September wind is blowing gently 
from the south; and nothing, simply nothing, is 
lacking to make this one of the loveliest of lovely 
nights for which Kansas is famous. 

We examine our surroundings more closely. 

In the glimmering light afforded by the 
blazing jewels of the sky, we are enabled to take 
a survey of the scene that opens up before us. 

A long line of white tents is visible in the 
starlight. 

We are in the midst of a camp, a camp 
pitched and arranged in the true military style. 

A second glance reveals to us the fact that 
we are in an overwhelrriingly large camp. 
Beneath yon snow white tents thousands of 
sleepers are reposing, unconscious of our intru- 
sion. 

What means all this ? Has an enemy in- 
vaded the land, and are we in the midst of a 
mighty army which will soon be called to mingle 
in scenes of bloodshed and deadly strife ? 


376 

We wander around the camp. All is quiet, 
save the careless challenge of the guard, which 
confronts us at divers points in our journey. 

What can it all mean ? 

Ah, there it goes again. Away over on the 
farther limits of the camp, some fellow has found 
Joe’s mule, and the fact is duly announced, after 
which all is wrapt in comparative quietude. 

We are lost in silent reverie as we meditate 
upon the historic associations of our surroundings. 

Ah, how many pathetic incidents and thrill- 
ing experiences are connected with the history 
of many of the sleepers in yonder tents. 

It is a melancholy story. Dress it in the 
choicest of garments, and there yet remains a 
sadness that cannot be hidden or disguised. 

We are suddenly startled from our medita- 
tions by the drum and bugle. The sun is just 
peering over the eastern horizon. The air is 
quiet; not a ripple in the atmosphere disturbs 
the serenity of this magnificent, glorious morn- 
ing. 

The distant hilltops are already bathed in a 
wave of golden sunlight, and we are thrilled with 
delight as we behold that marvelous grandeur 
which no artist can paint and no pen can des- 
cribe. 

We are near headquarters. The stars and 


377 


stripes, the flag of immortal fame and glory, is 
floating in the air above our heads. 

As its silken folds apparently make an effort 
to ride upon the atmosphere, but fall back into 
restless inactivity, and the grand old emblem is 
kissed by the tide of sunlight now flooding the 
earth, we read in its stars the history of a con- 
tinent, and the story of a nation. 

You, kind reader, again ask, “Where are we.^’’ 

What is this Far away in the distance 
stretches a line of white tents. 

On the outskirts, much of the regularity that 
surrounds us is broken and the tents are pitched 
promiscuously around, without much regard for 
system . 

The scene is one of immense activity. 
Countless forms are seen moving in all directions 
around the camp. 

Joe’s animal with the ample ears has evi- 
dently been found, for no one seems to announce 
its presence. 

What have we here ? Oh, indeed ! a strange 
soldier ! A little girl of some five or six sum- 
mers is tripping blithsomely along by the side of 
a blue coated veteran on whose temple the silver 
frosts of time are prominently visible, and 
whose footsteps are slow and measured. 

See them everywhere ! 


378 


There are women here ! 

Yes, see them ! There you see that kind 
old grandmother surrounded by a half dozen 
prattling youngsters who are, doubtless, asking 
her, at this very moment, more questions than 
an entire school of philosophers could answer in 
half aTentury. 

Women,, girls, boys and small boys, and 
babies are visible all around us. 

We again ask, what does it mean } ' ■ * 

Is the country involved in a mighty’ war,' 
and are the “ cradle and the grave” being robbed 
to suppress rebellion } 

We cau find out by consulting yonder blue 
coats who are now congregating around head- 
quarters. . 

We approach, and one of them very court- 
eously bids us “good morning.” As he turns 
to greet us the gilded eagle and the “G. A. R.” 
on his cap flash in the sunlight, and as we. ap- 
proach .nearer to him we discovered on his vest 
the well known badge of the Grand Army of the 
Republic. 

. Kind reader, we have not led you to a scene 
of bloody war. No. The old veterans have 
met .to talk over old times, tp^renew old friend- 
ship — friendships formed under circumstances 
Ahat tried the souls of men. . Yes, the boys have 


379 

met again, to gather around the camp fire and 
talk about other days. They will tell how the 
“sweet potato started from the ground while we 
wefe marching through Georgia;” they will tell 
how the unsuspecting pullet was “yanked”drom 
the roost ; how the apple-jack was confiscated; 
how the turkey met his fate; how the festive pig 
was consecrated to the Cause of freedom; how 
the uiiwary sheep was dedicated to liberty; how 
the good old brindle cow was held by tbe horns 
by one of the sons of Uncle. Sam while the lacteal 
fluid was pumped into the canteen for the pre- 
servation of the Union; and again they will talk 
of the boys Who never came home; how Bill was 
shot down, while, scaling the heights at Donel- 
son; how Jack fell on the heights of Lookout, in 
the battle “above the clouds;” hoW Joe died at 
Gettysburg, while helping to sustain the ba!ttery 
against the charge up Cemetery Ridge; and they 
will also tell hovv comrades were starved in 
Libby and Andersonville; and how others were 
shot while on the picket along the banks of the 
rolling rivers of the sunny south. 

They will also talk about the boy’s who 
followed Lyon, Lane, Curtis, Sigel, and the other 
heroes who commanded on the western frontier. 

They will talk reverently of the “Silent 
Soldier” who led the army of the Potomac to the 


38 o 

climax at Appomattox. 

They will follow old “Billy” “from Atlanta 
to the sea;” and they will sing the praises of 
“Pap Thomas and Old Rosy” over and over 
again. 

Reader, your know where we are now. Oh 
yes, you, perchance, belong to this crowd. 

Well, this is a healthy place and we are 
going to stay. We are going^to stay all day. 
Yes, and to-morrow, and next day. We will 
stay as long as a tent remains upon the ground. 

The air here is loyal, patriotic and full of 
inspiration for devotion to the old flag. 

What is that band playing ? 

Listen ! “Marching through Georgia !” It 
seems that we have heard that before. 

In another locality strains of music are 
floating upon the atmospere, and as the vibra- 
tions fall upon our ears, we discern the notes to 
the familiar air, “John Brown’s body lies moulder- 
ing in the ground,” etc. 

In all directions, we hear the sound of many 
voices. 

Friends are greeting each other with the 
hearty “good morning,” for which the re-unions 
have become noted. 

For sincere friendship, fellowship, and genu- 
ine hospitality the re-union beats the world. 


The scene begins to change. From a thous- 
and camp-fires the blue wreaths of smoke sail 
upward in curling clouds, forming beautiful, 
feathery pictures in the sunshine above the camp. 

The camp kettle is on the fire. The “slap- 
jacks” are in the pan. The women and children 
are standing around, looking on, while the boys, 
the old boys, are cooking breakfast. 

Yes, we will, thank you, we will take break- 
fast with you. We have accepted an invitation 
to breakfast with an old vet, and are now seated 
at the board. 

Yes, that coffee is fine. 

It has a force of character about it that 
wou'ld make it formidable rival of the famous 
fluid prepared by Aunt Jinsey at the Hotel de 
Mason. 

“ Here, stranger, let me fill your cup, you 
aint half eatin’. ” 

Wonder who our host is ? 

We have not ventured to ask his name. He 
has an interesting family, especially numerically 
interesting. 

The Veteran’s consort is a short, rosy, stout) 
healthy matron who looks but little if any, older 
than the three or four young girls who are stand- 
ing near her. 

That she is the mother, is indicated by the 


25 


382 


numerous little hopefuls from the six-year-old 
down to the little creeper, who are peeping out 
at us from behind her apron and dress skirts, 
as we make vigorous attacks upon the bill of fare. 

Our host is quite communicative. 

He jests, laughs, tells “yarns,” and in many 
ways tries to entertain us. We are right at 
home . 

We certainly have met our friend some- 
where in days gone by. 

An aged lady is sitting by the side of our 
host, and when he is in the middle of a tremend- 
ous camp-fire “romance ’ which might have been 
questioned by those inclined to skepticism, she 
lays her hand gently on his arm and, as a mild 
reproof exclaims : 

“Josef! Josef!” 

“Josef” laughs heartily, looks a little sheep- 
ish, and resumes the conversation. 

We now remember “Josef.” 

We met him on the Wakarusa, years ago. 

Joe is much stouter now than he was when 
we knew him in other days, but he has stood 
the test of time extremely well, and seems but 
little changed. 

The gentleman from Bitter Creek is the 
same big hearted fellow that he used to be. 
However four years of military service has train- 


383 

ed him down and that awkward sugger of other 
days has disappeared. 

Well, we have no time to remain longer, 
now that the repast is finished; we must proceed 
around the camp to “take in the sights” and 
hunt for old acquaintances. 

We take leave of our host and his wife only 
on condition that we return and camp with them 
while we remain on the ground. 

We again mingle in the busy throng. Who 
is this stately looking fellow that approaches us 
from the Colonel’s tent ? He is very courteous 
and seems to he at home in his elegant suit of 
dark blue with the shining brass buttons. 

Who is he.^ Wooly head and dark skin. 
Yes he knows us. “Hello Pompey. ” 

“Hello yo’self, sah, mi’ty proud to see yo’ 

sah.” 

We shake hands and, after talking fora few 
minutes with the sable veteran, we are peram- 
bulating again. 

Who is this.? Another familiar face. “The 
Colonel,” we hear an old veteran say, as an of- 
ficer comes out of a tent at headquarters. Who is 
this Colonel.? We have also seen him before. 
Yes, and that lady who stands near him, with 
two “kids” clinging to her. 

The past comes back to us. Yes, vve re- 


3^4 


member the Colonel and wife. But, here, we 
had flattered ourselves that the Colonel and his 
lady had come out to greet us, but we find that 
another individual is the object of their atten- 
tion. 

Well, the stranger is a quaint looking fel- 
low. 

His garb is peculiar in its “make up.” 

There is something familar in his face. 

What is he saying.? Listen: 

‘ ‘Pretty hard to tell you where Fve been all 
these years. I’ve scouted aroun’ on the frontier 
in a heap o’ places. I’ve been in the northwest 
with the soldiers, and have took part in the In- 
jun scrimmages on the southwestern frontier, 
and I was with the army in the Modoc war. 

“I’ve scouted along nigh onto every river 
in the West, from the Canadian and the Cimar- 
ron, on the South, to the Powder and Yalier- 
stoiie, on the North.” 

“You lead a lonesome life,” says the lady, 
“I shall never forget that awful night. 

“Here, allow me to make you acquainted 
with Mr. Jerry Stibbins Kingsley,” and the lady 
of Colonel Kingsley leads up to the stranger a 
bright little Jayhawker of some seven summers 
in age. 

“You see we have never forgotten your he- 
roic service. 


385 


“We named our first child for you.” 

Is he pleased.^ That smile of satisfaction 
answer “yes.” 

“Thank you, lady, thank you a thousand 
times. 

“I ha’in’t done nuthin’ to call for sich kind- 
ness; but it makes me proud to think that the 
boy of Colonel Kingsley and his good wife should 
be named for uneddicated Jerry Stibbins. 

“Never mind, though, the lad shall have the 
finest pony that money can buy in the Sioux 
camp; and when he is a little older, he shall have 
the finest rifle that the gun shops can produce. 

“Good lady. I’m not able to tell you how 
much good your kindness does me.” 

“Oh; sir,” the lady replies, “you know that 
we owe you a debt that can never be paid. 

“This boy, whom we have named for you, 
is indebted to the brave and generous scout of 
the border war for his mother’s life.” 

“Say not that, good woman, it was Provi- 
dence, and no one else, that did the work.” 

“You will make our tent your home while 
at the re-union,” says Mr. Kingsley. 

The scout replies that he has quarters with 
his comrades in another part of the camp, and 
must decline. 

Again we perambulate. 


386 


In a distant part of the camp ground, remote 
from the headquarters tent, we happen upon a 
tent wholly unlike any of those that are to be 
seen around it. 

It is a conical shaped wigwam, with an 
opening at the top, out of which the smoke is 
issuing. 

This is a novelty. We are attracted by its 
peculiar construction, and stop before the en- 
trance. 

Strangely and quaintly clad is the being 
that we behold emerging from the interior of this 
abode. 

The feet are incased in moccasins, the legs 
in leather leggings, and a calico shirt, over which 
a red blanket has been thrown, completes the 
garb, all except the head and that is covered by 
an ordinary G. A. R. cap. 

As we scan it closely we read upon its front: 
“Co. A., i6th Kan. Vol." 

An Indian soldier! An old man too. Very 
old! As he stands, motionless; before us we 
recognize the still erect form and grave face of 
Wampawara, who, despite his years, maintains 
much of his athletic powers of other days. He 
extends his hand and, in tolerably good English, 
bids us good morning. We have scarcely re- 
newed acquaintance with the aged Kaw (we now 


387 


call them Kaws) when another person comes 
from the wigwam and we recognize the “last of 
the Kanzas” in the well developed form that 
stands before us. 

Honipuss is dressed in nearly the same garb 
as that worn by his father. 

We now remember that both the Kanzas 
enlisted in Co. A. , i6th Kan. Vol. 

We remember of having heard of their ex- 
ploits as scouts for Colonel Walker’s regiment in 
the Powder River campaign against the Sioux. 

We talk for a short time with our friends 
and then proceed up into the city, which we 
have now reached. 

It is now noon. We will dine. A large, 
two-story, brick house over on the corner at- 
tracts our attention. As' it presents the appear- 
ance of a hotel, we enter. 

The landlord, with a vast amount of cere- 
mony, welcomes us to the hospitality of his 
house. 

Yes it is the same face. Additional years 
have made the customary changes, but we easily 
recognize the same person whom we saw dart 
through the doorway of the Hotel de Mason 
years ago. Yes, Jakey Mason stands before us. 
He is now sole proprietor of the Delmonico. 

Yes, it is “Jakey,” the lad who spilled the 


388 


liquor and broke up the festivities of the card 
table in the Mason House, on that memorable 
night when the famous host of that border inn 
lost the “likker for beggin’ when he orten to.” 

But things are vastly different. Every thing 
is in “apple pie” order in the house. We enter 
the dining room. 

The genius of Aunt Jinsey is not visible in 
the coffee pot. Aunt Jinsey is still living, Jakey 
informs us, but she has surrendered the coffee 
pot to younger Mrs. Mason, and has taken upon 
herself the responsibility of shaping the destiny 
of Jakey’s numerous flock of young hopefuls. 

We, having dined, gO out to take a view of 
the city. A crowd has collected in front of the 
hotel, and as frequent bursts of laughter come 
forth from it we are interested and draw near to 
the scene of merriment. 

The crowd is attracted by the antics of a 
slim built, limber jointed darkey who is perform" 
ing for the general amusement. 

We draw nearer and take a second look. 
The object of genera^ attention is dressed in 
gorgeous style. His splendid suit of navy blue 
is covered with cheap jewelry ornaments, and 
shining shirt front and prominent collar stand 
out in bold relief to the almost unknowable 
specimen within them. The fellow is a genial 


389 


buffoon. Have we seen that creature before.^ 
Just at this point the merry fellow draws his long 
slim fingers across the door facing of his house, 
and at the same time screeches in a manner that 
might have been creditable to the oldest “coon” 
in the woods. 

His idenity is no longer a question. To 
make it plainer he exhibits an ancient pistol, 
which, from its lack of certain appurtenances 
looks as though it might have been through many 
wars. 

We press our way into the crowd just in 
time to hear the discourse upon the merits of the 
“gun” (?). 

“Dis weepen am had a big sperience in hits 
time. Cato fit wid hit in de Bordah Wah. 

“’Twar dis berry hoss-pistol dat took in de 
prayin’ Rangers down at de gulch. 

“Wid dis ole shootin’ weepin dis chile cap- 
chured Ole Massa Brown down at de ole shanty 
near de home ob de debbil.” 

Again the long fingers passed along the 
side of the house, and again everybody laughs. 

We appreciate Cato and speak to him, and 
are informed that he is “portah” at the Delmon. 


ICO. 


©l^Qipter /KXXll. 

After talking for a short time with Cato we 
return to the c^mp. 

By “we, ’’gentle reader, you are intended to 
be included in the plural. 

Time has sped onward on her rapid wings 
and the second day of the reunion has passed 
away. 

Night has again spread her mantle over the 
earth. 

Again the stars are glistening in indescrib- 
able magnificence, and a thousand camp fires 
are flashing upon our vision as we look over the 
tented field before us. 

On every side of us we hear the sound of 
merry voices. 

We listen to the music of the bands. 

The boys are still “marching through Geor- 
gia;” “John Brown’s body lies a mouldering in 
th-e ground,” and we still “go marching on.” 

The Star Spangled Banner waves; (in mus- 
ic.) “The girl I left behind me” is again com- 


391 


plimented by the shrill notes of the fife and the 
rolling sound of the drum. “Poor Nellie Gray” 
is not forgotten. The boys rally around the 
flag some more. 

The “Soldier from Missouri” again dies in 
Mississippi’s clime. 

“Take that letter to my mother,” is request- 
ed. 

“Just before the battle, mother,” comes from 
another quarter. 

“Say, darkies, hab you seen de massa.?’ 
swells up from another part of the camp. 

Just at this time the bands cease playing 
and the songs are hushed. 

Our ears are greeted by music of another 
kind. 

Some one suddenly finds Joe’s stray ears, 
with the mule attachment, and for a time the 
welkin fairly rings with announcements and re- 
sponses. 

Then there is that “everlasting” chorus of 
“Oh, Joes.” 

This continues for some time, and then the 
camp, for a time, subsides into a more quiet state. 

The boys have gathered around the camp 
fires, and are telling and rehearsing adventures 
of other days. 

“What is that.?” • The sweet potatoes have 


39,2 

not started from the ground. The turkeys are 
not gobbling, but the unwary chckens are 
“squalling.” 

Yes, there is no mistake, some farmers 
chickens have started from the roost. 

The boys are resolved to carry out the en- 
tire programme. 

This act is absolutely necessary to complete 
the drama. 

Well it is all right and no one will appreci- 
ate it more than Captain Elton from whose prem- 
ises the feathered captives were taken. He was 
one of Sherman’s “Boomers, ’’and brought home^ 
as a heritage of the great conflict, an empty 
sleeve. 

With the camping ground of the reunion 
almost in his door-yard, Captain Elton would 
have felt it a personal snub if the boys had not 
jayhawked something from him. 

Those chickens are to be roasted at the 
very camp-fire where Captain Elton is now sit- 
ing, surrounded by a half dozen relics of the 
great and ever memorable march to the sea. 

After the fowls are cooked a la camp-fire, 
the Captain will in some way receive an intima- 
tion of the probable source from whence came 
the fine specimens from the barn-yard, which 
they had dedicated to the good cause. 


393 


We have taken up our abode at the tent of 
the gentleman from Bitter Creek. 

While conversing with the children and the 
good old grandmother, three or four of the 
“boys” come to the tent, leading the gentleman 
from Bitter Creek. They report that he is suf- 
fering from an attack of sick headache, and that 
one of the doctors had prescribed for him, and 
all that is necessary for a complete restoration 
is rest until morning. 

There might be something suspicious iti 
this, were it not for the fact that all the “boys” 
declared that nothing was wrong. 

Of course Joe has not partaken of too much 
extract of corn. That cannot be. Joe is not 
religious, but has had the symptoms time after 
time. 

“Mother ’’Skidmore and “Sary” are both ac- 
tive members of the church, and it has been gen- 
erally known that Jerry “leans that way.” 

He had during the winter revivals been 
known to “stand up for prayers” on more than 
one occasion. 

It could not be that “Josef” had imbibed. 
No — It could be nothing of that character that 
had befallen “comrade Skidmore.” “Sary” did 
not think that anything of that kind had happen- 
ed. 


394 


Grandma Skidmore would not for a mo- 
ment have believed that it was possible for “Jo- 
sef” to forget his “raisin’.” 

Well, it made no difference, for the gentle- 
man from Bitter Creek was soon sleeping sound- 
ly, and everybody was convinced that his “head- 
ache” would leave him, and that he would be all 
right by morning. 

Another night has passed away, and morn- 
ing finds us breakfasting again with the gentle- 
man from Bitter Creek. 

The host has completely recovered from 
his “headache” of the previous night, and is as 
talkative and jovial as ever. 

Since we last enjoyed the hospitality of the 
Skidmore family, prior to this time, a great 
change has come over the social status of that 
domestic confederation. 

During all of those long weary years when 
the boys were at the front, fighting to perpetuate 
the Union and maintain the dignity of the Stars 
and Stripes, and good mothers all over the land 
were praying for the safe return of absent sons, 
Mother Skidmore was not only praying for the 
return of Joseph, but she was praying earnestly 
for his success. She came of patriotic lineage, 
as some of her ancestors were not unknown to 
fame in the old wars. 


395 


Mother Skidmore believed that her soldier 
boy was an essential factor in quelling the South; 

Whenever she heard of the success of the 
Federal troops, she was sure to attribute no 
small portion of the honor to “Josef.” 

She had ever prayed for her boy’s safe re- 
turn, but she invariably inserted the proviso 
that it must be after he had helped to “whup 
the, Secesh.” Joseph had returned. The “Se- 
cesh” had been “whupped, ” and Mother Skid- 
more had never for a moment thought that her 
boy had not mounted as high up the ladder of 
fame as it is possible fora military hero to climb. 

He had been her ideal soldier hero. 

Since coming to the reunion Mother Skid- 
more’s dream of glory for her boy had been for 
a time dispelled. 

She had observed that “General,” “Colonel,” 
“Major,” “Captain,” “Lieutenant,” etc., had been 
applied to many members of the G. A. R. , but 
“Josef,” her brave “Josef,” had no title of honor 
to distinguish him. 

The good woman was for a time extremely 
indignant, for she deemed “Josef” the peer of 
any man on the grounds. She had called him 
to her for private interrogation, and had asked 
him if he had not been “sumthin’ ” while he was 
in the “war.” 


396 


Desiring to please the old lady Joseph had 
told her that he had been a Corporal, and that 
that was by no means an unimportant position 
in the army. That was enough. The deter- 
mined mother proposed to confer anew the dis- 
tinguished title upon her hero, and from that 
time on she always spoke of him as the“Corporal.’ ’ 

If any one near her happened to speak of 
the “General,” or the “Colonel,” she was sure to 
say something about the “Corporal.” 

In some way the soldiers were apprised of 
this amusing incident, and the gentleman from 
Bitter Creek soon became known all over the 
camp as “the Corporal.” 

It was with feelings of great satisfaction that 
the old lady heard the soldiers address her boy 
as “Corporal Joe,” and speak of him as the 
‘ ‘Corporal,” 

Having finished breakfast at the hospitable 
board of our friend, we will go with you, kind 
reader, if you will still accompany us, to survey 
the exhibitions of the morning. 

The rolling sound of the drum may be heard 
in any quarter of the ground. 

The different organizations are preparing 
for the parades of the morning. 

The “W. R. C.” has its headquarters upon 
the ground, and when many an old veteran looks 


397 


upon its friendly banner, he turns aside and 
brushes a tear from his eye, as he remembers 
the noble work of the “W. R. C.” in the days of 
long ago. He remembers how, when he was 
sick and in prison, the representatives of this 
very order obeyed the lessons of the Great 
Teacher of Galilee by ministering unto him. 

And now they are marching ! 

Here this Avay ! This is a strange looking 
army that comes marching up the avenue. 

There are men with snow white beards and 
others who appear to be only midway on the 
journey of life. 

The latter were the boys, or more properly, 
the children of the army. They are now as 
strange a mingling as when they marched under 
the same flag and to the sahae music in the days 
of “long ago.” 

The ranks swell as the procession passes by. 

Again the roll of the drum and the shrill 
notes of the fife quicken afresh the measured 
steps of the boys in blue as they march to the 
familiar music of days gone by. 

The army passes on, and then here comes 
another procession. 

The Stars and Stripes floats proudly in the 
breeze at the head of this juvenile contingent of 
the G. A. R. 


26 


393 


The members of this division are much 
younger and their steps are much quicker and 
more elastic than the tread of the army that has 
just marched by. There is a good reason for 
this difference in the respective armies that are 
marching before us. The latter is only a pic- 
ture of what the former was when the drums 
were beating for volunteers away back in the 
early “sixties.” 

The many camps of the “Sons of Veterans” 
are in line and marching to the very music which 
in other days had been “played” while their 
fathers marched to “ far off Dixie Land.” 

This parade continues for some time, and 
then the scene is suddenly changed. 

There are no longer the many tokens of 
good will and fraternal association visible in the 
demonstrations. 

The omens are of a suspicious character. 
Have we been deceived by this apparently peace- 
able gathering.? Can it be that after all of our 
pleasant experiences at this gathering, the whole 
scene is to be marred by war — dreadful, bloody 
war .? 

See that battery that they have planted so 
rapidly upon yonder hill ! Look at yonder troop 
dashing so swiftly across the valley ! How 
rapidly the field officers gallop over the plain as 


399 


they pass from station to station ! Couriers are 
flying in every direction ! 

There, see, they are planting another bat- 
tery up there on the left ! The drums are beat- 
ing “the call ” to arms ! 

Hear the shouting of the men, and the 
general confusion that pervades yonder distant 
camp which has just been ordered into line ! 

How rapidly those infantry regiments march 
as they hasten to take position on the extreme 
right ! Still another battery, and then another, 
and yet another is planted in a commanding 
position ! What means all this ? 

The flags wave nobly in the morning breeze; 
the roll of the drum and the sound of the fife 
proclaim aloud the event that is to follow. 

Every thing is in readiness, and the tumult 
and hurry skurry of a few moments ago has sub- 
sided and comparative quiet reigns all along the 
line. 

It is a magnificent scene that greets the 
vision. 

A long line of blue coats in battle array 
thrills us with admiration as we survey the 
splendid preparations made for the impending 
conflict. 

Every heart beats more rapidly, as we wait 
in anxious expectation of the event augured by 


400 


these war-like demonstrations. 

Suddenly a cloud belches forth from the 
battery on the right; and from the guns along 
the left wing, column after column of curling 
smoke ascends into space above, while the ter- 
rific challenge of the instruments of war comes 
across the valley with a deafening roar that 
adds immense interest to the scene before us. 

The problem is easily solved. 

In the sunlight, on the crest of yonder 
western hill, we behold the flashing arms and 
waving colors of a rapidly approaching army. 
What a magnificent array ! 

On ! On ! They come. 

Every battery opens upon them with a 
terrific thundering that fairly causes the ground 
to tremble. 

But the advancing host heeds it not. With 
disciplined coolness and determined purpose, 
the unwavering columns, move forward. On, 
down the slope of the hill, the hostile array 
presses. A the entrance into the valley the 
advancing foe is received by the skirmish line of 
the blue coats, which after delivering its chal- 
lenge in a volley from a hundred muskets, falls 
back to the security of the lines. 

The engagement is now “on.” 

The tumult grows wild and furious. All 


401 


along the line the deadly challenge of the rifle 
maybe heard, indicating that the fray is increas- 
ing in its ferocious intensity. 

Unmoved and undaunted the attacking 
army pushed its way onward up to the “cannon’s 
mouth.” 

Although the batteries have played upon 
them, and the infantry men are pouring volley 
after volley into their ranks, they heed it not, 
but with grim resolve and frightful purpose the 
unflinching warrors press onward into the “jaws 
of death.” 

Men fall and are carried to the rear. Others 
are stretched upon the ground unconscious of 
the melee that rages wildly around them. 

The opposing forces now fight “hand to 
hand.” 

The enemy has planted the Stars and Bars 
on one of the captured guns of the battery. 

We conclude to watch the progress of the 
battle more closely and take a new position at 
the rear of the division that has been sustaining 
the main shock of the attack. 

As we shift to our new position, we en- 
counter one of the strangest specimens of mor- 
tality that ever greeted human eyes. 

At first it is almost impossible to classify it. 

But a second scrutiny divulges the mystery. 


402 


It proves to be a badly scared negro. 
With terror depicted in his face, his eyes “wal- 
ling” out like two immense snow balls, his capac- 
ious mouth standing ajar, his arms and legs 
madly “pawing” the air, his once splendid blue 
coat all covered with dust, and even his wool 
apparently standing upright, we recognize the 
outlines of our old friend Cato, as he rushes 
madly by on his wild race for life. 

We call him by his name, but he only ans- 
wers by a wild look and dashes on in his mad 
career. 

His fine silk hat was lost in the scuffle which 
he has recently participated in, and we also 
notice that one of his feet is shoeless. 

As this dusky fugitive passes down the line , 
the soldiers seem to forget the emergency of the 
moment and a hundred guns are fired at him as 
he rushes toward the timber. 

This increases his velocity and as he nears 
the friendly shelter of the woods, he somewhat 
resembles a rubber ball bouncing up and down 
in its rapid flight along the earth. Although 
both hat and shoe have been left on the battle 
field, Cato is still clinging to the “ole hoss-pistol” 
with the desperation of despair. 

A few more vigorous leaps carry the knight 
of the “hoss-pistol” into the security of the 
woods. 


403 


Subsequent inquiry disclosed the fact that 
Cato had been induced to take his famous pistol 
and go to the front. He had enjoyed the prom- 
inence of his position very much until after the 
battle opened. The rapidity of the firing had 
somewhat awakened his fears, but when the 
fighting commenced at short range, and three of 
the “rebs” had singled him out and attempted 
his capture, he lost all control of his reason and 
for the time seemed to believe himself in the 
clutches of a desperatp enemy. 

We turn again from the amusing incident 
just recorded to witness the progress of the 
battle. 

The contestants are still striving to “gain 
the day.” 

Our attention is attracted by another amus- 
ing incident that we witness near one of the guns 
of the battery. 

The flag bearer of the company held to 
support the battery had during the conflict been 
very conspicuous with his colors. Wherever the 
fight raged hottest, there this jolly Irishman, for 
such he was, might be seen waving his flag. 

A huge Dutchman, belonging to the enemy, 
has concluded to capture the flag, and accord- 
ingly undertakes the task. He and the color- 
bearer engage in the scuffle, “good naturedly” 


for a time, and both seem to relish the fun. But 
the struggle finally becomes so exciting that 
many of the contestants on both sides stop to 
witness it. The men are about evenly matched 
in strength. 

The Dutchman tugs away and the Irishman 
heroically holds on to the flag. 

They are heartily cheered by their friends, 
and in their struggles to win both soon become 
angry. 

The real object that prompted the contest 
is now wholly lost in a desire for personal su- 
premacy. 

The Irishman steps suddenly back from his 
antagonist and thus “speaks his piece.” 

“It was meself, Patrick O’Leary, that carried 
the auld sthripes from Atlinta to the Saa, and 
its divil the Dutch nagger that can make this 
hearty pull down his colors.” 

Patrick squared himself, and while tightly 
grasping his flag-staff with his left hand, he 
landed a terrific blow upon the short ribs of his 
Teuton antagonist that made that warrior open 
his mouth and gasp for breath. 

Hans, however, was no coward, and mani- 
fested signs of active retribution, but several of 
the contending forces purposely crowded one 
another in between them, and they were borne 
away in the tumult. 


4P5 


We have only described one of the many 
incidents that are taking place in the struggle 
around us. 

The arena is now a scene of thrilling in- 
terest. 

The roar of artillery, the rattle of small 
arms, and the confusion of tongues, all mingled 
together, form an interesting presentation of the 
tragedy of war. 

The attacking force is at last repulsed on 
the right wing. 

At first the enemy falls slowly back, but the 
retreat is soon quickened into utter route. 

The panic is contagious all along the line. 
At all points, the enemy gives ground and is 
closely pressed by the victors. 

Pell mell, hurry skurry, they go with their 
antagonists in hot pursuit. 

It is not a retreat, but an indiscriminate 
route. 

Across the valley and up the slope of yon- 
der wooded hill the surging mass pressed its 
way. 

In the timber is some more fighting, but it 
is only temporary. After the firing of a few 
shots, the tumult ceases and the great battle is 


over. 


3o6 


AFTER THE BATTLE. 

Well, the great struggle is over, and we are 
now in camp watching the result. 

From every direction the boys are bringing 
in prisoners. They bring them in, whole com- 
panies at a time. Then again they bring them 
in singly, leading individuals whom they have 
captured. 

We aproach one of the tents around which 
there are many of the recent warriors assem- 
bled. In the center of the group Cato is per- 
forming his old time antics for the amusement of 
the bystanders. As of yore, he seems perfectly 
happy. He has regained possession of his light 
hat, but his shoe is still missing. He draws his 
fingers along the board of one of the tables, and 
screeches the old familiar scareech. 

The bystanders are delighted, especially 
those who had witnessed his recent flight to the 
woods, as he recites the story of the late adven- 
ture. 

Cato said that after he reached the timber 
he was attacked by about four hundred men, but 
that he held them at bay by presenting the “ole 
hoss-pistol.” 

It is over. The tents are being hauled 
down, and are loaded into wagons and taken 
away. 


407 

We have had a good time and everybody 
goes away feeling that it was good to be there. 

Thus ended another reunion at the capital 
the Jayhawkers state. 

We will come back next year, reader, and 
together enjoy the society of the “boys in blue.” 


©l^Oipter /KXXlll. 

Reader, you will be detained but a short 
time in gazing at the scene to be presented in 
this the last chapter in the book. 

The picture which we wish to present to you 
is one very common in Kansas. On the gentle 
slope that rises above the eastern valley of the 
Wawawaha stands a comodious farm house 
rather homely and old fashioned in its architect- 
ure, but roomy and very comfortable. Along 
the eastern and across a greater portion of the 
southern wing an ample porch traverses the 
house, making a comfortable refuge for the Jay- 
hawker who might wish to find protection against 
the intense heat of the summer sun. 

In the valley below the farm house, just 
back of the barn, which by the way is a commo- 
dious structure, and in the yards around it a 
goodly number of horses and mules are to be 
seen. We see vast stock yards, filled with long 
rows of feed racks, around which many cattle 
are feeding, and others not thus engaged, are la- 


409 


zily reposing in the September sun, while ming- 
ling with them scores of fat, black porkers are 
to be seen, some resting in lazy contentment 
while others are moving around among their 
horned companions. 

Two men are sitting on the southern porch 
of the farm house. One of them, a stout citizen, 
sits with his elbows resting upon his knees, 
smoking a cob pipe. He has divested himself of 
coat and vest, and it is plainly evident that he is 
more interested in comfort than in fashionable 
etiquette. 

The other gentleman is just the reverse 
from the one all ready described. Tall and mil- 
itary in appearance, he forms a fine contrast to 
his companion. 

We are at the home of the gentleman from 
Bitter Creek, and the guest of the occasion is 
Colonel Kingsley. 

The host and his friend have gone from the 
dinner table to the porch to indulge in the cus- 
tom^ary smoke. “Josef” has provided himself 
with the choicest of Havana cigars, which are 
presented to the Colonel, while the host, himself, 
prefers to draw his contentment from the Kansas 
cob pipe. 

“Well Joe,” remarked Colonel Kingsley, 
“you have prospered. After all the turmoils of 


410 


war, and the struggle and the hard times that 
we have experienced in Kansas, it seems that 
your labor has been beautifully rewarded. 

“Things are somewhat different to-day from 
what they were on the night that we met in yon- 
der valley.” 

“Yes, Colonel, they are different. Right 
where them feed racks stand were where we fit 
the Ruffins. Some of ’em are buried up yonder 
agin’ the hill now. 

“You remember that on the morning foller- 
in’ the fight, I mean jist afore daylight, some of 
our fellers was sent out to put the dead away. 
Mose Ross, who was one of Brown’s men, was 
one of the crowd that went to bury the dead, and 
he told me that the piles of rocks found along 
the hillside over there, were marks over the 
graves of some of old Sol. Higgins’ men.” 

“Well, comrade, you are devoting that val- 
ly to more peaceful pursuits. The sword has 
not been turned into a plow shear, but the bat- 
tle field has been turned into a stockyard*” 

“Great are the victories of peace. Kan- 
sas won a glorious victory when she opened 
wide her doors to freedom, and she won another 
great victory when she dedicated the fruits of 
success on the altar of peace and progress. 

“How many have you in your family, Joe.? I 


see you have been blessed by a bountiful supply 
of heirs.” 

The gentleman from Bitter Creek held up 
his hand and commenced to count his fingers. 

“There is Albert Kingsley Skidmore, Jerry 
Stibbins Skidmore, John Brown Skidmore, Mont- 
gomery Skidmore, Honipuss Skidmore, Richard 
Realfe Skidmore, and then there is Anna, Hep- 
sey, ’Lizabeth, and there is a passel of little kids 
of the second crop. I ha’in’t kept no strict tally 
of them; but Sary knows. 

“There’s Richard, or Dick, as we call him, 
I wanted to call him after Wampawara, but Sary 
said Honipuss was carrying it far enough, but 
with such a name as Wampawara sticking to him 
the child could never live.” 

“Joe, you have been blessed with many 
bright children. 

“We have but two, but we have your idea 
in regard to names. 

“We named our boy for the famous scout of 
the border war, and our little girl we named for 
Aunt Jinsey Mason, and it would have done 
your heart good to have witnessed the emotions 
of the good woman, when we visited her yester- 
day, and she for the first time saw our child and 
learned that it had been named for her. 

“But, Joe,” said the Colonel, “you need 


412 


more help than I do. These honest lads of 
yours are essential on the farm. They are a help 
to you and you have the pleasure of seeing them 
developing into honest, industrious, intelligent, 
men.” 

“Oh yes, the boys are fine chaps, and I 
want to fix ’em all out in good shape when they 
are ready to go to doin’ for themselves. 

“Sary looks after the gals, and will see to 
their fetchin’ up. 

“Our foremost intention is to do well by 
the boys and gals. 

“We give em from eight to nine months 
schoolin’ each year. Schoolin’ is what the risin’ 
young Jayhawker most needs . When we first 
married Sary says to me: ‘Joe, whatever we do, 
we must be sure and give our young uns school- 
in.’ 

“Neither Sary nor me ever had much 
chance at lamin’, but it beats all how the chaps 
take to it. 

“Colonel Kingsley, I would not have that 
white school house up thar removed from my 
place and be cut off from its benefits for the rich- 
est gold mine in the world.” 

“You surely,” said Kingsley, “can have no 
room to complain of the dispensation of fortune 
in bestowing the gifts of life. 


413 

“You have wealth and you have a promising 
family of children.” 

“Yes, I’ve got along middlin’ well in the 
way of property, and as for children, Kansas 
beats the world. 

“That’s one crop that I’ve never known to 
fail here. 

“Drouth, grasshoppers, and other famines 
have visited us, but the kid crop never fails.” 

Colonel Kingsley and family visited for a 
few days with Mr. and Mrs. Skidmore, after 
which they returned to their home in the city, 
where the Colonel had built up a lucrative busi- 
ness as a lawyer. 

Colonel Kingsley was subsequently urged 
out into the political arena by his friends and 
was soon the recipient of many high honors in 
the Jayhawker state. 

The gentleman from Bitter Creek, with his 
Sary and their numerous young Jayhawkers, is 
still living on the Wawawaha. Their home is 
the travelers’ refuge. 

Reader, should you ever pass that way, stop 
and enjoy the hospitality of this Jayhawker 
home. You will be warmly welcomed. 

This effort, commenced without a defined 
purpose and perhaps ended without results, is 
now over. 


27 


414 


We are aware of but one thing, and that is 
that we had a good story to tell, but if it has 
been badly told it is our misfortune, and not our 
fault. 

With the commencement of this story, 
Kansas is presented to us as an arena of war and 
bloodshed. 

It was upon her soil that the world heard 
the booming gun that heralded the great Amer- 
ican rebellion. It was upon her soil that the 
principle that “all men are born free and equal,” 
was first maintained upon the held of carnage. 

But things have changed. 

Through fire and blood, the Jayhawkers do- 
minion has passed out into the ranks of her sis- 
ter states— the fairest of them all. 

Her school houses, her churches, her im- 
provements of every kind, and her fame at home 
and abroad, all proclaim the story of her triumph. 

From a baptism of blood in the valley of 
sorrow, Kansas has come up out of the great 
tribulation with white garments, and a diadem 
of love and peace encircling her brow. 

From beneath the clouds of adversity, she 
has risen and now walks in the paths of hope 
and promise. 

From adversity to prosperity. 

Life out of death! 


Victory out of defeat! 

Light out of chaos! 

Love out of hate! 

Peace, hope, promise, victory. 

A heroic struggle on her journey. 
Astra pei' Aspera'' 





-V 


k 


t 







• > 








f 


i 

I 




n ■ 


. ' 

I , 

I ’■ j 

< ■ • 

'i’ 


! 


*- 


\ . 

> 


> 

■v 





<• 


k ■ 

-uf -* 







$ 


. \ 

» . 


« 





I 



N 


% 


4 


J 


4 


t. 

*>.' ' . . 




■ *• ■ 

. • r 


k -■ 

H' . 


t 




i 

i'r . 


I , 

*' 




\ 


Cl.: 





t 





u 

» 


I 



V / V'» 


« 





I 









A..,< 








» 






■> 

•4 


. \ 


V > 




























9 


\ 


9 


* 


/ 


- ^ 


























UBRARY OF CONGRESS 



